


women do not creep by daylight

by sveltess



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Court Politics, Depression, Gen, Grief, coerced marriage (part 2 and 3), death of a loved one (part 1 and 3), death of children (part 3), drugged character (sleeping spell part 2), grief related dissociation (part 3), hallucinations (part 3), she's a complicated lady, welcome to the patricia lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 32,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22233877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sveltess/pseuds/sveltess
Summary: Patricia von Arundel is mother to both Edelgard von Hresvelg, next Emperor of Adrestia, and stepmother to Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, future King of Faerghus. Her life and disappearance remain one of the biggest mysteries in Fodlan despite her involvement in some of the most tragic events of recent decades.Discover the downfall of the woman, the myth, the nightmare: Patricia von Arundel---This account follows Patricia's life from 1148 at the Academy to 1176 at the Tragedy of Duscur. Part 1 shows her years in Adrestia, Part 2 is 1170-1173 in Faerghus, and Part 3 is the conclusion to her saga.---EDIT: Part 1 was published before the DLC release so it is only pre-DLC compliant and the following parts are only somewhat DLC compliant
Relationships: Lambert Egitte Blaiddyd & Patricia von Arundel, Patricia von Arundel & Ionius IX (Fire Emblem), Patricia von Arundel & Nina von Hresvelg
Comments: 36
Kudos: 73





	1. empress of foulest snakes

1176.

_Castle Fhirdiad, Faerghus_

On an evening in late autumn, Patricia lounged in the south parlor and stared into the fire. She found the colors soothing, and her gaze was swallowed by the flames. 

Supposedly, burning alive is the most painful way to die.

Lambert sat behind her at the tea table with Rodrigue, Glenn standing behind them leaning against a bookcase. The men sorted through papers, correspondences and notices from smaller lords about harvests and taxes. She used to bother with things like those for humour and a sense of importance. Petty disputes over wheat seemed so trivial now. 

“Our last trade agreement with Duscur expires at the start of the new year.” Her husband noted when pulling out a particularly large document. Her shoulders stiffened, but none one glanced her way; it was chance that Lambert missed this. And the slightest chances would become the difference between life and death. 

“I’ll send a letter to the chairman and ask them to come to Fhirdiad.” Rodrigue replied, the dutiful servant. She didn’t dislike him, but wished for once he would say something interesting. 

“What if we went to Duscur instead? They always come here, it seems fair that we visit them for once.” Patricia suggested, twisting to rest her forearms on the back of the couch and perching her chin on top. 

The man who looked like her brother but was not her brother stood at the window. _Thales_. The newest bane of her existence. “A brilliant idea. When treating with nations, it’s best to appear as fair as possible.” 

Rodrigue shook his head. “I disagree. Their capital is at the northernmost part of the country and its roads are dangerous. We would have to travel the entire length of the state, whereas they pass through little of Faerghus to get to Fhirdiad.” 

“Duscur is so pleasant this time of year. The leaves turn vibrant, and wildflowers survive late into the season. I know it’s business for you, but Dimitri and I deserve a holiday, don’t you think?” Patricia responded while ignoring Rodrigue’s perfectly valid statements. 

“I hadn’t thought of that! My wife is right. It’s only fair to go to them instead, and we’ll have the best of Faerghus protecting us. Won’t we, Glenn?” Lambert boasted, clapping the young knight on the back. 

“Of course, your Majesty. But I ask you to consider this decision further. Sleep on it, perhaps?” Rodrigue asked with a strained smile. After years of following after the king, she wondered if high blood pressure had ruined his heart. Among other factors. 

“If that will make you happy, yes. I’ll come to you with my final decision tomorrow, but don’t expect it to change. Tricia is right, and relations with Duscur are smooth these past few years.” Lambert leaned down to kiss her hair and speak directly into her ear, “These trips are so lonesome, thank you for coming with me. And for thinking about Dimitri. It’s time for him to see diplomacy in action.” 

“Always good to start teaching our children at a young age. I, for one, would go to the world’s end for them, if I had children.” Thales said for a subtle change of subject. 

_Ignore him, Rodrigue_. Part of her wanted the Duke to persuade Lambert, if only to see what Thales would try next. To hope that she could escape involvement. Though the rest of her was very selfish, and wanted to get this ordeal over and done with. 

“It is a parent’s job to guide and raise their children to be good stewards for their country.” Rodrigue looked at Glenn with pride shining in his eyes, and the boy bashfully glanced down at his feet. Outside of Lambert’s presence, the young knight could be foul mouthed and reckless, but his loyalty and dedication were never amiss. 

“And what about you, sister? What would you do for your children?” Thales asked her directly. Rodrigue, Lambert, and Glenn had the luxury of hearing the question without understanding, but she was not so lucky. 

“Anything. There are no limits to my devotion.” The words were precise and clear. This game reminded her of the Adrestian court again in the worst way, deception and double meanings and overall being _fucking exhausting_. 

“I’m glad to hear it.” He gave her a slight nod before clasping his hands behind his back in satisfaction. 

They were so relaxed, every one of them thinking that they have a firm grasp on the direction of their futures. She knew was it was like to feel as if one had complete control only to find they were grasping at smoke. 

She had wanted to make space in her heart for Dimitri, once. But there had been no beating in her chest since the carriage bore Edelgard away from Fhirdiad. Thales had gouged out her sense of feeling with each letter detailing how another of the children died in his experiments until she’d lost them all except one. A stepson could not be so bad as that. 

_I have died ten times_ , she thought, _I have burned and burned_. 

_And I will burn again._




_Officer’s Academy, Garreg Mach_

Emperor Ionius IX had met Patricia before, but he didn’t look at her, really _look_ , until he arrived at Garreg Mach for the annual ball. Volkhard had convinced him to visit, that it would be a good opportunity to show support for the church. Count Hevring agreed, ever devout, so Ionius had begrudgingly consented to a visit. 

He had married Nina von Bartels the previous year, skyrocketing their family prestige despite the loss of their Crest of Ernest in recent generations. But she was sickly and ill after her miscarriage last year, followed by a stillborn baby a few weeks ago, and unfit for travel. Their marriage had been arranged as children like most political matches, and though they appeared friendly, rumor spread that there was coldness between them. The phenomenon caught Patricia’s curiosity, but she’d never have the opportunity to meet the Empress herself. But if the night went according to plan, she would get the chance soon enough. 

A night for dancing, drinking and revelry with an absent wife. A perfect opportunity to catch the Emperor’s eye. 

Volkhard, though younger than her, had been sent to the Academy the same year as Ionius, and Patricia’s education delayed. The soon-to-be Emperor welcomed Volkhard into his confidence and personal cabinet after his coronation, thanks to her brother’s efforts. Arundel was not a large or powerful house, low on means and land resources. Their Crest of Noa kept failing to appear much like the von Bartels’. Her parents failed to have the ambition to elevate their status, but it only made their children hungrier for change. 

It started with this: “Your Majesty, these childish antics must tire you. A break in the Goddess Tower might do you well. It’s a quiet place and students are not allowed inside.” Volkhard suggested, noting the Emperor lagging on the side of the hall as students danced in pairs all around. 

Through letters, her brother informed her of the Emperor’s personality, his habits, likes and dislikes. Ionius attended many functions as Emperor but never had the energy to enjoy them. He preferred the quiet of a library, stable, or imperial gardens. 

“I would be found out if I disappeared.” Ionius objected weakly with a frown. Neither handsome nor ugly, he appeared rather plain despite his fine garb. The Emperor was dressed in a red silk tunic with black sleeves, gold roses embroidered on the fabric and simple black pants. Not one for fanfare of any kind. He looked the part of the Emperor, certainly, elegant in simplicity. Shy nature aside, he didn’t need ostentatious clothing to be imposing, tall as he was, or a retinue to command presence in a room. 

“Worry not, Your Majesty. I’ll cover for you.” Her brother promised with a clever grin. The Marquis Bram von Vestra threw Volkhard a searing glance of disapproval but said nothing. The loyal servant to the Emperor, he followed his Majesty’s wishes and will. Yet, he found ways to make his opinions known. 

“You have my thanks as always, Volkhard.” Ionius’s shoulders sunk in relief, and he exited through the back door. 

Volkhard nodded to her from across the hall where she observed the exchange, and she smiled at the signal before slipping out of the hall. 

A seemingly coincidental meeting under the brightly lit the moon and stars. She knew she looked radiant in a dress of Empire red and gold and her brown hair pulled into intricate braids that framed her face. 

Ionius stood staring into the distance on the balcony when she approached loudly to avoid startling him. Glancing behind at her, he took in her image. A brush of makeup, heels to make her a little taller, with simple adornments that matched his simple elegance. A picture of the woman he wished he had as his wife. 

“I was told that students weren’t allowed in here.” He said, not looking displeased. “Aren’t you Volkhard’s sister?” 

She nodded, coming to stand next to him. Her shoulders were back, neck long, and the low cut dress showed her collarbones and assets. In her periphery, she didn’t miss the way his eyes trailed along her figure. 

“There’s a legend about this tower, you know. If a boy and girl meet here on the night of the ball under the moonlight, they’re destined to fall in love.” 

He let out a small laugh, “What a silly legend. Do you believe in such myths and fairytales?”

“Only if I like them and find their outcomes convenient.” Patricia said smartly. It’s true that her and Volkhard planned this, had been planning this for years, but she wouldn’t erase her own personality so completely just to please the emperor. 

“Honesty is not a common trait of Adrestian nobles.” Ionius replied with a raised brow. 

They gravitated closer together, his arms crossed in front of his chest and hers available at her sides. She kept staring at him out of the corner of her eye long enough to be caught only to hurriedly look away. Suitors had approached her at the Academy. She’d never taken them seriously, but engaged in lessons on flirting and how to make a man interested until the skill felt natural. Interested but not too much, pretty but not trying too hard, clever but not too clever. A game where either everyone wins or everyone loses. 

“The best of us lie with the truth.” It was her favorite challenge. Parts of truth here and there did wonders for absolving one’s self of guilt. 

“And how shall I figure out if that’s the case? Do you only tell the truth when it’s, how did you put it, convenient?”

At last she turned to meet his eyes, coyly glancing up through her lashes. Maybe she was overdoing it, but her and her brother’s lavender irises were unusual, and, or so she’d been told, entrancing. “I suppose we’ll have to get to know one another better for you to find out.” 

“I wouldn’t be opposed.” His voice had gone soft with affection, and she nearly sighed in relief. 

By now, Volkhard would be pacing outside the reception hall and imagining the worst possible scenarios for no good reason. He’d always been anxious, but she had faith in herself. Admittedly, she did not often have complete faith in her sibling either. But they were stronger together than apart, at least thus far. 

She offered Ionius a sure hand and a grin. “Dancing is the superior way to make an acquaintance.”

They waltzed in the tower until dawn, and that was the beginning of the end. 




_Enbarr, Adrestia_

The Imperial Palace was a dream from which she never wanted to wake. Early that year, Patricia had graduated from the Officer’s Academy and moved right to Enbarr. Her parents fretted about her fate as a consort, but she held no shame. Inside the palace, she had a beautiful suite with a view of the rose gardens, a parlor all to herself, and a lady in waiting named Heidi. In her old home, Mother told her to grateful she had a closet and a vanity for a water basin. 

Her seduction was flawless. The problems began when she fell in love. Volkhard had failed to describe Ionius’ true personage in his letters to her. Ionius made her _special_. There were other women, but they came and went through the revolving door of the palace’s lower floors. They had sex and afterward he shared his fears with her, how unprepared he felt to be emperor because his father had died before Ionius could learn from him. She became his closest confidante and advisor, in addition to his lover. And the Emperor’s ear brough influence, riches, and responsibility. 

The Empress Consort wasn’t concerned with Patricia’s presence. Pregnant, again, Nina was confined to her rooms on bedrest. As a result, Patricia shared his bed more often than not, and he fell further and further for her charms. She didn't appear at functions, royal or plainly social, so her nature remained a mystery to Patricia. For now. 

Nina may have been his wife, but Patricia was the woman at his side. There were parties, operas, horse races, or card games every day. He spoiled her with grand dresses and fine foods. When she went into town, she rode in a carriage gilded in gold leaf with at least two members of the palace’s Royal Guard. Michel and Tara were her usual companions, and she was slowly winning them over, too. How could she be bored with such a life?

He did not leave the capitol much, requiring the council to converge onto Enbarr each autumn and winter when the harvests and trades died down for the colder season. He sent emissaries to Dagda and Brigid, and treated with the Alliance and Faerghus through messengers if he could manage it. 

The councillors were unbearable at first, but a bonus of being a consort meant she could observe them from afar. At a distance, she learned the games they played with each other. She knew they were sizing her up too. 

As the Emperor’s favorite, her power grew every day. Nina’s duties fell to Patricia, and running the house, greeting dignitaries, and conversing with the noblewomen of Adrestia’s best houses were no small gestures. Effectively, Patricia functioned as the Empress Consort and had the advantage of a consort’s freedoms. She could skirt decorum and obligation if she felt like it, though she rarely wanted to. 

The councillors were unbearable at first. Count William von Hevring and Duke Frederic von Aegir were the biggest pains in her side. The Minister of the Interior was nitpicky and particular, and condescended to her for the tiniest infractions. At a distance, she observed and learned the games they played with each other. She knew they were sizing her up too. 

Last week, the Dagdan emissary had arrived and Patricia had welcomed his entourage while Ionius was busy with a meeting about the distribution of grain stores for the coming months. Her behavior was not perfect enough for the Count. 

“My Lady, please, it is a basic fact that the Dagdan ambassador is to be served coffee immediately after settling in his room. It’s the proper procedure.” He had chided, wringing his hands to bury the instinct to wag a finger at her. Hevring, at least, said exactly what he meant. 

Coincidentally, the following week, William’s usual rooms were unavailable, his luggage was briefly lost, his breakfast included pecans, which he is allergic too, and then his aide forgot to tell him about the Albinean princess’s arrival. He showed up three hours later and Patricia had to cover for him. Sometimes people just have a bad week, don’t they? Tragic. 

The Prime Minister writ a whole different story. Power hungry, which she could sympathize with, except the power he was trying to steal belonged to her.

She recalled his pathetic attempt to slight her at the reception for the newly wedded Vladimir and Jesmina von Bergliez; “Isn’t that an outfit grand enough for the Empress?” He said about her clothes, which were indeed grand but commissioned for her, not Nina. 

She tsked, sighing as she looked his outfit up and down with a disappointed eye. “The Empress has good taste, a trait we happen to share. It’s such a shame how many people lack the penchant for fashion.” 

He had walked away and she did not see him for the rest of the night after that. 

The councillors and lord’s wives were more or less on the spectrum of the same breed. Varying from naive to vicious, Patricia lost interest in making acquaintances with any of them. This was easy since they were homebound with children or running the house while their husbands were away. Goddess, it made her glad not to be married.

Over time, she grew to enjoy the court’s games. Patricia von Arundel grew up in a den of snakes; she learned the taste of their venom and exactly how to bite back.




Patricia stood in the back of the Empress’s room for the birth of Wilhemina von Hresvelg. Nina survived, barely, and if the palace healers were less talented she would have been lost. The mother cradled the baby in her arms for only a moment before the child was whisked away and Nina passed into unconsciousness. The women still hadn’t met on natural terms, but Patricia’s presence was expected nonetheless.

The Empress Consort had birthed a living child the year prior, a son named Ionius X after his father, and the birth had gone much the same. The name was wasted, however, when they discovered that the child bore no crest. 

The imperial couple despaired for it. Ionius confided in her that he doubted Nina would bear another child as her body was unable to take the stress. Patricia soothed his mind, offering her heart and body to him as a balm. She had been too hopeful, to think these worries would turn him completely away from Nina at last. Jealousy was not becoming for a consort. 

She worried little, knowing that soon a child would grow in her belly as well. She’d stopped taking the preventative measures provided to her by the healers. And certainly, after the birth of another child, Nina’s body would not be able to take a fourth pregnancy. As for the rest of the women who caught his eye, she made sure the kitchens knew to place potions in their tea. She couldn’t compete with the Empress, but she no longer had to, and certainly wasn’t going to give up her place to some low born songstress. 

The noble lords were in town during Wilhemina’s, affectionately known as Mina by most of the court, birth and the discovery of her minor Crest. Wilhemina had the Crest of Ernest from the Bartel’s side, but the future emperor needed a Crest of Seiros to wield Aymr and the throne. The court would clamor for a suitable heir; Patricia made that possible. 

Frederic asked her to join them in the study a night that week after dinner. Ionius excused himself to bed but she felt energized by her growing pool of luck. There were plentiful opportunities to sink deeper into the court and secure her place as the mother for the next Emperor of Adrestia. And it would be helpful to learn how to wrangle the Ministers and minor lords for her future child. _Know thy enemy._

Bram directed them to a well fashioned parlor with a fireplace already roaring with warmth for them. Drinks were poured and Patricia took her place at one of the card tables. Topics would turn from the paltry jabs across a dinner table to deeper discussion, and she settled in to listen. 

“I miss the Academy on occasion. I was able to swing my axe without having to file any paperwork afterwards.” Vladimir lamented from his place on the chaise lounge. The Minister of Military Affairs was comical in the sense that he was exactly the type of man she had expected. He had attended the Academy with Volkhard and Ionius, as had William and Frederic. She was supposed to go that year, but seeing the circle of men interact made her grateful she’d waited. They would have been unimaginably intolerable as teenagers. 

“It’s not easy being the brute in charge of thousands of other brutes, is it?” William sighed, barely concealing a satisfied smile. The two men had a strange, combative relationship that she was just beginning to understand. Though they claimed their feud had nothing more to do with than the positions they inherited, she called bullshit. There was a layer beyond she needed to see. 

Vladimir nearly snapped off the arm of the chaise, sniping in retaliation, “Your head was smaller back then. It must have been easier for it to fit up your—” 

Patricia interrupted them before that sentence reached its vulgar end. “Lances and bows were my favorite, but I wouldn’t say that I miss it.” Vladimir had the grace to appear chastised while William gloated quietly in the corner. 

“I preferred swords and faith, but it’s good to have different interests in the name of balance.” Her brother commented. He’d been in Enbarr with her since her arrival as an ‘escort’ and kept eyes on official and unofficial dealings between the nobles while she kept Ionius happy. She couldn’t tell if her brother suspected she had feelings for Ionius or not, but knew he wouldn’t approve. Neither of them were people of keen feeling and generally regarded those who were as weak willed. But _love_ was a force that couldn’t be controlled. She respected that about love. 

“Volkhard, why did I think you were a wyvern rider?” Erik von Varley, a short and nervous man from Patricia’s school year, paced in the back of the room by the windows. He was a eccentric egg. Despite his history as largely harmless, Erik put her more on edge than any of the other lords. 

Patricia snorted. “Wyvern rider? I’ve never seen a man more afraid of heights. I took him up on my pegasus once and he threatened to drown me in a river.” 

“Is revenge why he’s done you the disservice of never teaching you Burning Jester? Eagle’s Nest is for children.” Frederic joked, taking a seat opposite her at the cards table and beginning to shuffle the deck. 

She had picked up on the rules of Burning Jester over several matches with Frederic and the other lords. The cards were arranged in a circle, or ring of fire, of fourteen and the players given seven to start. Cards were set down in layers of a particular order, starting with a king, followed by a queen, then a jack, and so on down the line until an ace began a new circle. They had to draw cards until they got one they could place down next, and so on until their hands were spent. It was a race of luck and a little strategy to reach the jester at the end of the deck, the winner placing it in the center of the circle to win. 

“I’m rapidly improving, don’t you think? I’ll soon have you beat.” Patricia said as she set down her first set proudly. 

“We’ll see, my Lady,” Frederic said while keeping an eye on his hand, “We’ll see.”




Being pregnant with triplets was fucking awful. She could barely move and leaving the palace was out of the question. No operas, racetrack, restaurants, or parties for her until these little nightmares popped out of her belly. Or killed her. 

Alexei, her first and crestless baby, turned two this year and was toddling around too fast for her bulging stomach to keep up with. His nursemaid took charge of him and Patricia spent long hours in bed too tired to move. His dark brown hair and ruddy eyes took after Ionius, so she proved her faithfulness at least.

She was stuck. It was Volkhard’s suggestion to finally visit with the Empress. Patricia hadn’t interacted with her much since Nina was often confined to her room as well due to bouts of illness. But that was a situation Patricia was becoming very empathetic to. Plus, gaining her favor would be advantageous. Patricia sent the Empress a letter the next morning, asking to have afternoon tea and a reply promptly arrived with her consent to meeting. Even if she had known this path would eventually lead to heartbreak and madness, her biggest regret is that she did not begin to walk it sooner. 

Inside the Empress’s suite, the parlor held a grand mantle gilded with gold, engraved with horses and riders of the wild hunt as the goddess watched over them. The canopy bed could have slept four people, and every mural and painting shone with care and detail. Each piece, knick knack, and mirror truly fit for a royal. 

Nina von Hresvelg, Empress Consort of Adrestia, waited in a red velvet armchair by the fire with a full afternoon tea prepared on the coffee table. 

“It’s wonderful to see you again, your Majesty. It’s been too long.” Patricia’s curtsy was abysmal, but the Empress had been pregnant before. Surely she understood. 

“Please, call me Nina here. Your Majesty for public, Nina for private. I abhor nicknames.” The Empress’s smile was soft and true, and Patricia couldn’t help but smile in return. “Come, sit by me.” 

“I agree fully,” She replied and sank into the matching plush chair across from Nina and took up a cup of floral scented tea. Bergamot. “We have names, titles, and they ought to be used in the spirit of respect.” 

“My brothers used to call me Nina the Ninny when I was a child.” The Empress went on, her grin turning mischievous. Nina didn’t appear as fragile as she remembered, though their interactions had been few. Her freckled cheeks looked vibrant and healthy in the light, and her blonde hair was delicately twisted into an elaborate bun. Even sitting, it was clear that the Empress was tall, maybe taller than Ionius, and had the true posture of a noble. 

Patricia cackled, “How awful! Tell Ionius and have them thrown in prison for a day.” 

“No, no, I’m not that cruel. With the way they’re running Bartels’ territory, I’ll sit back and let them be the masters of their own ruin.” She laughed with a wave of her hand. Saints, wasn’t that _endearing_? 

Patricia had asked to meet for tea, but she ended up staying for dinner and coffee after that. Conversation with Nina flowed easily, more so than with any other person Patricia had ever known. And Nina had a lot to say. Patricia could listen for hours, and it became part of her every day to do so.

They spent hours together in Nina’s spacious rooms or on the veranda if she felt well enough to use her wheelchair. If they felt adventurous and the weather was agreeable, Patricia would wheel her down to the west wing for sweets before heading out to the rose garden. On rare occasions, they would take a stroll to the stables where Nina loved to pet and treat the horses. 

Ionius X, Wilhemina, or Alexei (if the nursemaid could wrangle him) joined them for tea or outings but the eldest siblings were busy in lessons or training more often than not, and the disposition of early childhood made it difficult for Alexei to sit still. But Nina’s children made the effort to pop in at least once a day to tell her that they loved her, give a brief and winded update, then leave as quickly as they’d come.

It was the two women against the rampant force of boredom. 

One evening, Patricia sat with her feet tucked up under her in a chair next to Nina’s bed. Patricia was pregnant once more, and hoping that her fifth child wouldn't disappoint her. Concern ate at her, becoming more vicious every day, but she distracted herself with Nina and the children. The Empress had a stack of correspondences in her lap, flipping through the pages with increasingly loud groans. After a while, Patricia watched with amusement as Nina threw one of the letters down with a huff. “These are going to be the death of me,” she grumbled. She pursed her soft lips, eyebrows knitted together as she pinched the bridge of her freckled nose in frustration. Patricia couldn't help but notice how those freckles had multiplied under the summer sun, dotting her nose and cheeks like constellations.

“You’re very popular.” Patricia said as she rifled through the council scribe's notes brought to her at the end of the day during the session months when the Minister's met in Enbarr. Technically, he brought them to Nina, but Patricia tended to read through them and give her the highlights. 

“They’re not all bad,” she admitted, “Jesmina’s son is a character, it reminds me of Alexei. Last week, he ran around the house in a sheet and tried to convince the staff he was the ghost of Wilhelm I. And Lille von Varley is such a sweet woman, she sends recipes to the palace cooks for me to try. The honey cakes we always have at tea are her invention! And Helena, despite being married to William, has a wonderful sense of humor.” She paused, her mouth twisting with distaste. “Katherine, Frederic’s wife, has taken up too many of his habits.”

“How do you know them so well?” Patricia recognized the names and had blurry faces to match, but she had dismissed the Minister’s wives a long time ago. A feeling of dread settled in her stomach as she realized that may have been a mistake. Could they have been good friends like she was with Nina? Did they think of Patricia as vilely as she had thought of them?

“Ionius and I were engaged very young, so most of them made my acquaintance in girlhood or at the Academy. We’ve kept up, since letters are most of what fills my time other than you.” 

Patricia hummed in thought. “What about Bram’s wife?”

“Medea and I do not often correspond.” _How damning_. 

Nina continued, “But it’s the lesser nobles who are unbearable. Letter after letter, gossip and accusations with unsubtle digs at me. The Empress of Pillowcases and Canopy Beds.” 

Patricia almost ripped the paper she was holding as her hands unconsciously formed fists in a tick of rage. “Bold words from the Lords of Patches and Pennies,” she said in a voice that sounded more collected than she was. But Nina had a knowing eye, and it was clear that her sharp stare discerned Patricia's true feelings. 

“I live to fight another day. As you must, or I shall never forgive you. Don’t let the council and lords be your end.” She chided, gesturing to the meeting notes and gaining yet another smile from Patricia. 

The notes from that day were long, but interesting. “Bergliez is requesting more Imperial forces be sent to the Brigid coast. Doesn’t he have enough battalions of his own to manage? Brigid hasn’t been a threat in over a decade.” The rest was discussions of Hrym’s high taxes, which ultimately remained unchanged, and Baron Martritz’s failing health. His land would be distributed to surrounding lords when he passed, and Seiros knows what would become of his wife. 

“He asks for more soldiers on the border every year like Brigid’s entire armada is on the horizon. If Ionius gives Vlad an inch, he takes a mile, and soon the city won’t have a soldier left in its walls.” 

“And he’ll agree to it, won’t he?” 

“Yes.” Nina said without hesitation. 

Ionius’s style of rule was offhanded to put it mildly. He did not leave the capital much, requiring the council to converge onto Enbarr each autumn and winter when the harvests and trades died down for the colder season. He sent emissaries to Dagda and Brigid, and treated with the Alliance and Faerghus through messengers if he could manage it. 

He generally let the ministers decide what was best and gave them free reign over their lands and offices. She assumed this was due to his shyness, and perhaps it was at the beginning, but the sentiment had morphed into true disinterest over the years. She admitted that operas were more agreeable affairs, but honestly, he had to stop letting the nobles run amok. 

Patricia sighed, “Are they ever going to let us run the country?” 

“Of course not. That would be too intelligent. We’ll have to be content watching them stumble through their messes.” 

“I’ll make popcorn.” She responded dryly, and they fell into laughter. 

#

Ionius came back to his rooms after Heidi helped Patricia get ready for bed and she had sent her away for the night. 

The maid rarely spoke a word, preferring to work in silence. Patricia had chipped away at her resolve over the seven years Heidi had spent in her service and gleaned the summary of her maid’s life. Born in the city to a humble cobbler, married young, and employed in the palace when her husband broke his leg in service of the Royal Guard. She didn't steal, folded the laundry neatly, and had a talent for helping Patricia match jewelry to her outfits. A well made servant.

“How were your meetings? I see the council didn’t bore you to death.” Patricia asked, wrapping her arms around him from behind. He stood a good head taller than her, and she felt the tension in his muscles melted away with her embrace. 

“They made an honest effort, but I am still standing.” He said with a pat to her forearm, “I hear you’ve been spending a lot of time with Nina.” 

“She’s your wife, and incredibly lonely. You ought to visit with her more often.” Patricia released him, and he leaned down right on time for her to kiss his cheek. 

Patricia heaved herself up into bed as Ionius began to undress, watching her. His clothes, as per usual, were fine but minimalistic in design. Her ornate dresses were what gave them presence whenever they went out together. “Right as usual, darling.” 

“Mm, you know how I love to hear that.” She teased as he climbed up onto the bed with her. They hadn’t had sex since she’d started showing, but he still choose to have her share his bed. _For luck_ , he’d told her, as if his proximity to the triplets had anything to do with their likelihood of having a crest. Whatever works. 

“Any day now.” He pressed a hand to her stomach which she swore was on the verge of exploding. She was officially nine months along and wanted her life back. Then again, her days with Nina had been more refreshing than any of those spent with the ministers or out on the town. But losing the ability to choose how she spent her time grated on Patricia’s every nerve. 

“We can hope.” She replied, closing her eyes and falling into a dream of rose gardens and bergamot tea. 




Irina was beautiful like Alexei, Jakob, Natalia, and Vasilisa before her, but ultimately just another daughter with no Crest of Seiros. Patricia was beginning to grow frustrated with Ionius because honestly this was _his_ fault, but she’d never show it. Not when the council and court around her were circling like vultures. Frederic von Aegir could eat shit as far as she was concerned. The Marquis was up there with him, but she could muster a little more sympathy for Bram. Though married, he didn’t have any children, much less a child with a crest. 

This sympathy would vanish in the coming month when Medea announced her first pregnancy. 

“Your child is set to be a wonderful aide to the next emperor, whenever an heir should be born.” Frederic commented overly loud towards the Marquis one day in the reception hall as they waited for Lord Nuvelle to arrive. 

Bram smiled, an affair with too many teeth for her liking, “Surely a suitable mother will appear, and an heir will not be far behind.” 

“Goddess curse you both.” She whispered under her breath and moved to the front of the party without a glance in their direction.

Volkhard was no help. He spent most of his time commuting between the capitol and their parents’ house to make sure things were still up and running since their death. Neither of them had attended the funeral, but the people of Arundel were his responsibility now. Which meant it was Patricia’s place to secure their place in the imperial line and have a damned baby with a damned crest. 

Nina assured her that a child with the Crest of Seiros would come along soon. Ionius had many brothers and sisters older than him as proof of his parent’s efforts. And endurance. But she wasn’t sure how much longer she could put her body through this, not to mention her mind. “Love is patient. He will wait and wait for you if he loves you as he says he does.” Nina soothed her, sitting next to Patricia on her bed while she rocked Irina in her arms. The baby slept peacefully for now, but was partial to many fits and tantrums already. 

Patricia scowled in response. Patience and virtues were never her strong suit. “I’m getting tired of waiting for an heir. What else are they possibly expecting me to do?” 

“To survive, you must love yourself. And if that’s not sufficient, I will love you enough to make up the difference.” Her Empress smiled, kissing the crown of Patricia’s forehead. They talked and laughed until late, but any warmth from Nina’s company wore off when Patricia had to go back to her own bed.

Lately, she’d occupied her separate rooms in the name of recovery and Ionius hadn’t pressed. She sat in front of her vanity while Heidi brushed through her unruly brown hair. A nuisance upon her head, it took ages to fix in the morning and ages to plait before bed. 

“Do you have children, Heidi?” Patricia asked to break the silence. If she kept stewing in her own thoughts, she was going to crack her skull open on the nightstand to escape the voices of disappointment. Her mother’s ghost echoed the loudest: _You wanted this. And you are failing._

“My daughter and husband live outside the city limits, and I send them my wages each week.” Heidi's strokes missed a beat, almost imperceptibly. 

Lady Arundel hadn’t bothered with motherhood. But of all the things Patricia was, she worked very hard to make sure she would never be her mother. Patricia spent time daily with each of her children. Alexei was beginning his lectures with a tutor which relieved her of some responsibility, but he still regaled him with some tale every night about a new knight or beast he'd learned about in his lessons. At the triplet's and Irina's age it would be cruel to separate herself from them, and she was lucky to have servants who helped with the more taxing burdens of their care. “I had no idea. I could start giving you Sunday’s off to spend more time with them if you like,” she offered. 

“You’re very kind my Lady, but please don’t. They need the money and I can’t afford to miss a day of work.” Her maid’s tone was quiet and hesitant while her brush strokes remained unchanged. 

"Isn’t that a shame?" Patricia shrugged, “Being a palace maid must not pay what is used to.” 

Over a decade later, Patricia would realize this conversation contained one of the most devastating errors she would ever make. 




“She’s beautiful.” Ionius said, smoothing over the thin strands of brown hair on the baby’s head. 

Patricia laid propped up on pillows with the infant in her arms, Ionius draped at her side. She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling more affectionate towards him than she had in a long time. “Beauty and power go hand in hand.” 

Edelgard von Hresvelg and her Crest of Seiros arrived thirteen years after Patricia first moved to Enbarr. Her birth had been comparatively easy to the others, and the entire capitol breathed a sigh of relief when the palace mages discovered her crest. Except for some of the Ministers, who grumbled and slunk back to their own territories. She’d take the win. 

“How long has it been since we sat like this, just you and me?” Patricia tried to think back, but her and Ionius hadn't spent much alone time together in months. Maybe not since the time they conceived the baby that was now Edelgard.

“The baby is here as well, but I know what you mean. Too long, my love.” He said, his eyes only for Edelgard. With hesitance, he added, “Nina wants to visit you but didn’t wish to tire you out.” 

Patricia hummed, too exhausted to properly respond, but the notion was ridiculous. Nina was always welcome to see her. They continued like this in silence, and with the heat of the room and exhaustion of the day, she slipped into a dreamless sleep without noticing. 

When she woke, Ionius was gone and Edelgard slept in the crib beside her bed. Sitting up with no small amount of effort, she spent a moment taking in the beauty of her daughter. Patricia would be able to finally relax. 

A knock sounded at the door. Well, she’d be able to relax soon when people had the sense to stop bothering her. “Come in,” she called faintly. It would be a while till she was at full strength. She wasn’t twenty-five anymore, and bouncing back from giving birth wasn’t as easy as it used to be. 

Her brother walked in with a tray of food and water. His hair had grown past his shoulders, and she thought it made him look older than he really was, but that might be the point. “You’ve finally secured our status here in Enbarr. Mother and Father would be proud, if they were still here to see it.” He said, setting the tray down on a table too far for her to reach in her position on the bed.

“Hello, Volkhard! I’m sore, but other than that, I’m just swell. How are you?” She replied sarcastically, but he was right. “They died as they lived. Disappointing and disappointed in return.” 

Volkhard moved past the foot of her bed to Edelgard, peering at the quiet infant. “May your children never think so harshly of you. Especially this one.” 

“On the contrary, I’ll have to restrain myself from spoiling her rotten. She’s a gift to me, and I’ll be nothing less than a gift to her.” Patricia said absently as he leaned over the crib, hands behind his back. A twinge of unease overcame her as he observed Edelgard. _Get away_ , she felt compelled to say, but there was no reason she could pinpoint. Or needed to, as he promptly backed away. 

“Things are going to be exciting from here on out. We’ve earned our place here, but now we’ll have to keep hold of it.” He came over and patted her exposed hand with a condescending smile. 

Patricia resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and jerked her arm away. “Our status? Our place? I’m set, Volkhard. Worry about yourself and by all means, get to work. I’m the mother of the next emperor. _I_ have nothing to be concerned about.”

The only show of displeasure was a faint twitch of his eyebrow. “Enjoy your peaceful sleep, sister,” He almost said something more, but thought better of it and left, not moving the tray any closer on his way out. Good riddance. Her and Edelgard needed to settle in and rest. Patricia hoped that was something she could get used to.

1164.

“No, darling, that’s not for eating.” She tugged the teacup out of the toddler’s mouth and popped in a pacifier before he could begin to cry. 

Grigory, coming up on his first birthday, fussed as she picked up and bounced him on her lap. Five of them, the three toddlers plus Patricia and Heidi, sat on the floor of her bedroom. Patricia kept Grigory occupied while Heidi entertained Edelgard and Filipe with a pop up picture book detailing the great slaying of the gryphon, the deity monster that first called Enbarr its home. After defeating the beast, Emperor Sigrid von Hresvelg, who would later defeat Derick von Aegir in their infamous duel, soaked the ground in its blood and declared this land a place of power. 

Filipe, Edelgard, and Grigory were stuck with Patricia or their nurses for most days. The times they had playdates scheduled with the children of other lords and ladies visiting the capitol were Patricia’s favorites. 

Alexei spent most of his time with his tutor and other boys around the palace, and was at the age where he didn’t care much about his mother or any authority figure. The triplets and Irina were learning too, but were obviously still working on the basics of language, arithmetic, and strategy. 

Grigory was born with her family’s Crest of Noa, and no one was more surprised than her. Their crest hadn’t manifested in over seventy-five years, and the Arundel’s had assumed it was lost entirely. 

“Crest of Noa. That’s a good sign for your family. Maybe Volkhard will have a child with a Crest as well when he finally marries.” Ionius commented that evening with a sigh. She gave him a sideways look from her vanity at that. The likelihood her brother would marry was abysmal. His general demeanor and personality have prevented him so far, but he would have to if he wanted to retain House Arundel’s newfound place in high society. 

Neither of them acknowledged the elephant in the room. She was thirty-four years old and her childbearing days were nearing their end. Regardless, they rarely had sex these days. She was done wasting away her time being pregnant or recovering from birthing. He had a suitable heir, why should she keep subjecting herself to helplessness and pain? Why did he want that for her? 

Patricia resisted the urge to snip and said calmly, “We have Edelgard. None of your siblings had a Crest of Seiros, and why should they have? You’re a fine emperor.” 

“I wanted to be a better emperor than my father. Two heirs is always better than one.” He shot back as he moved back and forth across the room. Could he stop that? Pacing was useless and annoying. 

“What do you want me to do about it?” Well, so much for resisting her temper, but honestly he was being ridiculous. 

“I know about you giving up on this. The palace healers told me you requested potions in your morning tea.” He gave her a haughty look that she refused to blink at. _Those traitorous little bastards_ , this was the last time she’d trust them to keep a secret. 

“I’ve had eight children. It’s a miracle I haven’t died.” Not everyone was as lucky. Jesmina von Bergliez had passed away not six months ago giving birth to a stillborn boy. 

“That’s a risk worth taking.” He snapped and she recoiled from the harshness of his words. Would he truly rather have her dead in exchange for another true heir? Silently, she turned and strode to the door, shocked too numb to form a response.“My Lady, I didn’t mean that—” Ionius tried, but she didn’t deign to turn and give him the chance. That ship had sailed for the night. 

“Goodnight, Ionius.” She said flatly and slammed the door shut behind her. No more babies, no more pregnancy, she was sick of it. She’d had enough. Final decision.

#

They played a round of Burning Jester in Nina’s bed, with the Empress under the covers and furs wrapped around Patricia’s shoulders. Nina was infuriatingly good at the game, playing with anyone who had two hands and eyes to see the cards over these past many years. She’d taught all the children to play except Grigory, who would surely be under her tutelage when he could form a sentence. 

She did _not_ sniffle or wipe her eyes red from crying. There was a lot of dust in Nina’s room. The staff had grown lazy with cleaning as of late, she’d have to remind them to be more thorough. 

“You’re right, you know. It’s unfair to you to expect anymore children. Edelgard is perfectly suitable and you’ve done more in his service than I ever have.” The empress stroked her hair while Patricia leaned sullenly on her shoulder. Nina had painstakingly undone the braids with gentle touches and brushed out the tangles more sweetly than Heidi ever managed. 

_In his service_. Something in her roiled with distaste at the phrase, but she kept quietly stewing with her eyes boring into her cards. 

When she didn’t reply, Nina continued, “Patricia, you love him, which I’m grateful for because that means I don’t have to, but I have to let you know something. Ionius can be very pigheaded. Given our long history, I’ve always been aware of this.” 

“Strong words from his wife. You talk much of love for someone who doesn’t like her husband.” Patricia mused, glancing up at her. 

“He’ll come around.” Nina sighed, patting her hand and avoiding Patricia’s eyes. “Love, for that matter, is an experience we all have in one form or another. I am companionable enough with its burdens to speak on its ills and comforts.” 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She told her, curling up next to Nina’s side. 

“Hopefully, you’ll never have to find out,” Nina assured as she stroked Patricia’s hair. “Count your blessings, Patricia. Trust and friendship are not common traits among Adrestian nobles.” 

“No,” She replied, thinking back to her night in the Goddess Tower, “No they are not.” 

#

Hours later, a letter slid under her door. 

_My Lady,_

_I’m writing to apologize for my behavior during our earlier conversation, as I should not have disrespected you that way. Your presence, life, and love is more valuable than any child…_

The letter went on, detailing his regrets and endearments for the rest of the page, but she didn’t bother reading. It was not in his handwriting. She walked over the fireplace and fed the parchment to the flames. 




The Hyrm revolt had spread imperial forces across the state. Patricia understood how the Alliance appeared an appealing choice for a border territory whose lord had little say in the central affairs of the Empire, but it was a foolish choice of timing. The von Hryms and the Ordelias would suffer the consequences of their stupidity. 

Bram and Patricia watched Ionius fume in his chambers like a frantic animal a week after the suppression. Despite the Imperial troops complete success in demolishing the protestors, the emperor hadn’t calmed. The Vestra boy, Hubert, walked in Edelgard’s shadow as an already dutiful follower. She caught Bram watching them with downturned lips on more than one occasion. The Marquis’ discontent only grew more obvious these days, but Patricia decided to wait and see what he decided to do about it, if anything. 

“I have let the houses grow too comfortable. I have to remind them who’s the ruler of Adrestia, and how easily I can take away the power I’ve given them. It’s all within _my_ rights and will, not theirs. I won’t allow defection or treason.” His growling made her proud, truly. It had been a long, long time since she’d seen him desire to take control of his title. Perhaps this was the beginning of a new revival for him and therefore for her, so long as they remained on good terms. 

“Of course not, darling. You have jurisdiction over their taxes, laws, and foreign dealings. Yank the leash. Remind them who’s holding their collar. They’ll remember how benevolent you have been, and come begging at your knee to have mercy.“ She advised, watching Ionius’s shoulder relax into her words. 

“I suggest caution, your Majesty. The people have seen your show of force, now it’s time to remind of the benefits of your rule. Add the carrot to the stick.” Bram advised flatly. Ah, he was angry. But the Emperor shrugged off his suggestion.

Her and Ionius shared an agreeing look. It was better to be feared than to be loved. 

#

The Empress was leaving Enbarr for the summer. The last time she’d visited the estate had been before she was married and her health went south. But the agreeable weather and a stroke of luck had Nina feeling rejuvenated and strong, and the trip was overdue. She left today and would be gone for two months to get reacquainted with her old home. Her brother’s wive and adopted daughter had fled, leaving him dejected, and Nina was too good a sister to leave him lonely.

Ionius, Ionius X and Wilhemina gave their separate goodbyes and well wishes. Patricia’s children, plus Hubert at a distance, ran up to give her hugs and kisses on the cheeks before she stepped up to wish her dearest friend happy travels. 

“It’s not safe,” Patricia protested as she approached with a sour expression. She refused to be happy about this. 

Nina rolled her eyes, “Oh, please. It’s safer now than it’s ever been given that there are Imperial guards along the roads. I’ll be just fine.” 

“You owe me three rounds of Burning Jester _at least_ when you return as payment for leaving me without your good opinion to lean on.” She reached over to catch one of the Empress’s hands in her own, tugging her closer for one last hug. 

“Because you’re so helpless alone,” Nina replied with a roll of her eyes but submitting to the embrace. “Truly, who else can braid your hair? To think what atrocious things would happen to your scalp if our husband was left to the chore.” 

“Return soon or you will find a bald mistress in my place.” Patricia teased without strength. Burying her head in her friend’s collarbone, she told her earnestly, “I miss you already.” 

The palace would be so lonely without her. It was hard to remember the days she’d spent in Enbarr before she’d known Nina, when she hadn’t shared their afternoons having tea or evenings gambling away their dignity over gossip. 

“The sooner you let me go, the sooner I can return.” She promised, and Patricia hesitantly released her. They kissed each other’s cheeks before Nina turned to have the footman help her up the steps into the car. 

Patricia and the children waved to the carriage as Nina pulled away with the sun high above them in the sky. After a minute of well-wishing, the gaggle of Hresvelg’s ran right back inside to resume whatever game they’d been dragged away from to say goodbye. 

She stood in the archway and watched the horses take Nina down the driveway until long after they were gone from sight.

#

A knock woke Patricia in the middle of the night. She woke in a daze from a horrible dream she’d already forgotten, but slipped out of the covers and put on her silk dressing robe. 

The Marquis waited outside when Heidi, who’s room adjoined Patricia’s, blearily opened the door. At this hour? “What—”

“All of House Bartels is slain.” He interrupted her. His face was carefully blank, eyes wary, which was not unusual, but lacked the accompanying malice. 

This did not process immediately. 

“All?” Patricia replied, clutching her dressing robe closer in one hand and the doorframe in the other until her knuckles were white. The air was quite cold and it made her dizzy until the edges of her sight blurred, dots swimming in her vision. 

“There are no survivors. The youngest boy, Emile, is missing. Too young to be the murderer...” Bram kept talking but Patricia could just hear a loud ringing noise in her skull. 

The Empress Consort was dead. 

_Nina, my precious Nina_. 

“W-where is Ionius?” It was the single time in her life she could recall stuttering. The words came out of her mouth without intent, and she didn’t know what she was supposed to say. What was left to say? Nina would never be there to hear it. 

“In his chambers, grieving.” He explained with a pitying air. Her heart beat faster than she’d thought possible, but no, her heart just died hundreds of miles from Enbarr. Whatever machination pumped blood through her veins was no _heart_.

“I need to go to him.” She gathered herself and tried to move past but the Marquis barred the open doorway with his arm. 

“The Emperor has requested that he not be disturbed.” von Vestra was a tall man, taller than the majority of men in Adrestia, which was easy to forget in his places in shadows and dark corners. 

“That doesn’t include me, you nitwit.” She spat up at him, the beginning flares of rage brewing in her stomach. A source of warmth, it helped her lungs expand. Anger ate her up to the brim and she settled into its familiarity. 

Bram took a moment to make some obtuse decision with his head cocked to the side. Contemplating. “He’s taking this very hard.” 

She stared at him three feet and a million miles away. _Slain_. Was Nina alone? Scared? Did it hurt? How long did she suffer? 

Why didn’t Patricia go with her to the estate? Dying at her side would have been better than whatever would happen next. What were days without Nina in her hours? Something in her stomach _hurt_. There weren’t words or sounds to convey the snapping, fracturing, shattering, burning, of...whatever that thing was inside of her. That thing she hadn’t known was there until now.

So, this is how a person breaks. She’d always wondered. 

Her hands shook at her sides and she fed every ounce of self control into not snapping Bram’s neck. She choked out her words, because if she did not, they would come out as a scream,“Add up all the days he spent with her since Wilhemina was born, and how many would you total? Maybe a month? Two? Over fifteen years of marriage? _I_ am the one who needs comforting.” 

“I will make your sentiments known, and notify you if he changes his mind.” The Marquis said, and did not bow before he left her to her grief. 

Heidi, who had watched this entire affair in silence, came forward with open arms. Patricia fell into her embrace and wept and wept. 




“Oh, isn’t it lovely? I’ve always wanted a dress such as this!” The young woman spun around in her new gown with skirts covered in layers of lace. 

“It suits you, it’s quite delicate. Be sure not to crush it in the closet.” Patricia droned, tired of her childish display. _Anastasia von Gerth_. A gold-digging brat from the depths of Adrestia’s mountains sent to personally terrorize Patricia. "Go along now, show Ionius the fruits of his spending." 

"What a good idea!" Anastasia responded, twirling one more time before skittering out into the hall. This time of day, Ionius would not want to be bothered while he took his afternoon tea and discussed business with the Marquis. He preferred those matters be kept private, even from his closest confidants. Namely, Patricia. 

After Nina’s death, the palace had been draped in black for the customary year of mourning. Ionius didn’t wait a month until he brought other girls into his bed when Patricia refused him. Patricia, Wilhemina, and the servants were the only ones to make it the whole year wearing black. The nobles kept up the pretense for just a few months. It was like she had to do all the mourning herself. 

Sighing, she got up from her chair and walked to the east wing where the council would be. They were in a parlor near the rock garden, visible from the window and covered in moss this late in autumn. She could hear the children’s laughter from somewhere in the gardens over the hedge, but surely someone was supervising. The thought of finding them and getting tangled up with the little ruffians was enough to exhaust her. 

Without preamble, she entered and sat at the card table and began shuffling the deck on its surface. 

“Erik and I decided Ferdinand and Bernadetta would be an advantageous match. They’ll be married when they come of age.” Frederic was saying, but it did not pique her interest as much as it would have once upon a time 

“Have her and Ferdinand met? That girl is so strange, I don’t know if she’ll grow out of her...interesting tendencies.” William perused a boring old book, reading glasses perched on his nose. When had that happened? 

“The issue with the Varley child is that Erik von Varley is her father and her mother has been running around the capital instead of being at home. Regardless, the match between her and your son is well and good; I commend you for committing a stunningly sensible act.” Patricia remarked. She had been at the Academy with Erik and he had also been a strange boy. 

“You’re too kind, my Lady.” Frederic replied, an unbothered smile on his face. He was altogether too happy. Something was wrong. "Gentleman, we best get started with official business." 

The men rose and made their way to the end of the hall where a large conference room She saw her brother and the Marquis waiting inside, the former whom she hadn’t even known was in the city yet. Volkhard spent most of his time traveling doing goddess-knows-what or managing Arundel, and she hadn’t seen him much in recent years. 

"Ah, my apologies, I'm afraid this is a closed door meeting. We can't waste time being bothered explaining matters you surely don't know of or understand." The Prime Minister baited, but she didn’t bite. 

"The Emperor takes my opinions quite seriously, Frederic. Since you had no choice but to hold this meeting while he is otherwise occupied." They both knew it was a lie. Ionius hadn’t taken her seriously for a long while, but it would be something if he outright called her bluff. 

Frederic chuckled, putting a placating hand on her forearm. "You think you are an Empress to command me? Go spend your time on tasks befitting your station. Maybe Anastasia needs an opinion for her next dress." 

Beyond the Prime Minister’s shoulder, Volkhard made a flash of eye contact with her before glancing away to laugh at something Rechel said. She expected that he would cook something up to secure his station outside of his connection to her, but she had to hope he wouldn’t screw her over to do it. 

"I’ll see if I can track down the Grand Duke for you.” Ionius may be goddess-knows-where, but his eldest son was recently nineteen and more than ready to step into the ring with the ministers. Wilhemina was eighteen this year too, smart like her mother and she liked Patricia fine. 

“I assure you, our scribe takes thorough notes, not that you would know. We’ll send them along to Ionius.” After Nina’s death, the scribe had ceased bringing her summaries of council meetings, but she grasped bits and pieces of goings-on through the grapevine. But it wasn’t the same, and they both knew it. 

Frederic von Aegir shut the door in her face. 

_Shit._

#

She could not find the Grand Duke or Duchess. Heidi searched with her, but they weren’t in their rooms or the parlors, libraries, or studies. Resignedly, she went to Ionius’s room and waited until the sun went well past the horizon and the emperor came in. 

With practiced civility, Patricia asked him his whereabouts for the day. 

He huffed a little, but answered, “Ionius and I were busy with a polo match, then private business afterwards. The teams played dirty, it was exciting to see. I think Anastasia said she caught Wilhemina this afternoon to tour the portrait library. It’s good to see her show an interest in staying here and learn about the family history. ”

“I’m glad you had a swell time with your son, but you should have been here to wrangle the council. They had a meeting in the east wing for four hours, and I don’t know a single thing that went on.” She said nothing about Anastasia. 

“Bram was there, he told me what they ‘talked’ about. Hours of complaining about wives, children, their subjects, and taxes While they were driveling, if you must know, the private business after polo match was me and my son reviewing the troop assignments for the Royal Imperial Forces. They’re not where they need to be.” 

Her shoulders nearly sagged in relief. Since the Hrym revolt, Ionius sent out more and more Royal troops across Adrestia, and the city was less and less defensible by the month. He was finally bringing them back—

“I’m sending 3000 men to the west. More Dagdan ships have been sighted just past the maritime border and the Nuvelles have gone unwatched for too long. I need eyes and weapons on the ground in case they’re up to something.” 

“That leaves only 250 battalions in the city.” 

“Vladimir controls Adrestia’s army. Am I supposed to trust him to carry out my will? To keep my interests at heart?” His voice climbed in volume, but the anger was misdirected. He should be mad with the Ministers and minor lords, not the only woman trying to _help_ him. She didn’t answer, because yes, he was supposed to. Vladimir was a key member of his council.

She diverted the topic to suppress her building headache, “Why are there reports of people fleeing starvation coming into the city? There’s plenty of grain in the stores for the country. Last year’s harvest was plentiful.” Her maid had mentioned the influx of people to the outer villages and settlements, with few let into the city walls. They were becoming more outresourced than usual. 

“I’ve raised prices. The ministers have deep pockets. They simply choose to defy me and not to pay up. The more people come here for our food, the less people in their territories means less taxes.”

Patricia never considered herself a highly empathetic person. But she was suddenly very conscious that her status and position predicated themselves entirely on Ionius’s ability to stay in power.

“Do you think I don’t know how to run a country?” He asked when she didn’t respond. _Keep it together. Breathe._

“I think you’re panicking.” _And paranoid in all the wrong places_ . “You’re being petty and small with a tantrum like this. The Ministers are toying with peoples’ lives and they’re going to blame it on _you_ when it all goes to hell.” 

“What would you have me do, Wise Lady Patricia?” He mocked, bending at the waste to get in her face. Her fingers twitched and she grasped her skirts, standing so fast that her chair fell back behind her. 

“Use that title of emperor for something other than a word to paint on your opera box for once!” She snapped in an irrepressible spike of temper. Why was he so useless? Had he always been this way? A vein in his forehead popped forward, his cheeks flushed red as he opened his mouth but not saying anything. Too furious to speak. 

Oh. She may have gone too far. 

“Ionius,” She started to apologize, though she had meant every word. 

“I think you ought to spend time in your own rooms. Until further notice.” He took several steps back and faced away from her, but she could hear the grinding of his jaw. 

The Marquis, with his impeccable sense of timing, entered the chamber. “Excuse me your Majesty, but I heard yelling from the hall. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Nothing is wrong. The consort was just leaving.” 

“The _what_.” She flinched like he’d slapped her. 

“Would you like me to escort her out, your Majesty?”

Ionius nodded, “Thank you very much.” 

“If you would please follow me, Lady.” With a smile, he opened the grand doors to Ionius’s chambers and gestured for her to exist. Open mouthed at the indignity she was being treated with, Patricia stalked past both of them and turned down the first hallway to the left. 

“Lady, you’ll find your rooms in the other direction.” The Marquis, damn his long legs, kept pace with her effortlessly. 

“And you’ll find your head directly up your ass, Bram. I have business with my brother.” That bastard was going to help her whether he wanted to or not, no matter what he was cooking up with the council. 

Patricia marched up to his door and knocked, then louder, then pounding, but no one answered. Shouldering the door open, she found her brother inside at his desk, ignoring her while he flipped through a stack of _who cares what_. 

“It is ten past, Patricia.” Volkhard said without looking up from his papers. She was touched with the urge to kill every man in Enbarr at once. 

“I don’t give a fuck what time it is,” She snapped, her shoes clicking across the marble to his desk. He looked up at the heat in her voice, surprised. He shouldn’t be. Ripping the pages out of his hands, she felt an odd sense of peace. Her time with Ionius had outgrown its usefulness, but she needn’t be left out in the cold. She wouldn’t allow it. Taking a deep breath, she looked down at her brother and smiled. 

“We need to talk.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that is part 1 of my attempt to make the patricia lore make sense! she's quite the character, and that's putting it mildly, but this is what makes sense to me. This could really be a novel, but I don't have the power in me to make that happen which is why a lot of things are skimmed over. I picked the years/events I thought were most important and hopefully the sense you got of her from those is enough to get the picture. 
> 
> the title is a quote from Charlotte Perkins Gilman's short story "The Yellow Wallpaper" which helped inspire this story, especially the paragraph here: 
> 
> "And she is all the time trying to climb through. But nobody could climb through that pattern—it strangles so; I think that is why it has so many heads. They get through, and then the pattern strangles them off and turns them upside-down, and makes their eyes white! If those heads were covered or taken off it would not be half so bad."
> 
> as always, your comments mean everything to me, and thank you for reading this monster.


	2. queen of broken snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “that beautiful bait you hoped/would be yours? You might as well/try to tie sand with a rope.” -The Taìn 
> 
> in part 1, I originally said that Lille von Varley died in childbirth but there’s a tea time line revealing that Bernadetta’s mom is alive and well, working in the capitol so I changed it to Jesmina von Bergliez. Sorry Vladimir. otherwise i just went kind of buck wild with possible scenarios because the DLC gave us some very weird and contradictory information, so it’s now my AU and i get to decide what happens. 
> 
> *the name Finavaire is a reference to the Irish mythical figure Fionnabhair (which is pronounced finn-ah-verr) from The Taìn 
> 
> Warnings for the following: drugged character (sleeping spell), semi-coerced marriage between Patricia and Lambert

1170.

_ Enbarr, Adrestia _

As she expected, the council had plotted nothing less than complete treason. Patricia would rather chop off her own tongue than collude with Frederic von Aegir, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

The Adrestian people were angry. They were hungry and overtaxed and it was the Emperor’s fault. It was also their lords’ fault, but that information was buried under the handwritten revolutionary pamphlets circulating among the territories. When the lords revolted, the people would stand with them. These necessary sacrifices would pay off handsomely when the Ministers were in power and conditions returned, more or less, to normal.

The Prime Minister had gathered most of the traitors in the east wing conference room: himself, Bram, Vladimir, William, Volkhard, Patricia, and Rechel. Erik was at home, taking care of his daughter while Lille scurried around the capital supervising the city manager. Since learning that the Countess was in the city, Patricia had sent her two invitations for tea. The first was rejected because of scheduling conflicts. The second was accepted, but then canceled due to an emergency concerning a suspicious import of coffee into the city. Patricia accepted that some mistakes could not be mended. 

“We have a constitution drafted to reclaim our previous state of ruling power, leaving Ionius confined to the capital and it’s business, along with some foreign affairs and duties—” The Prime Minister kindly agreed to lay out their demands from start to finish, but Patricia found his plan rather uninspired. 

“Ionius has proven to be a shit emperor and indolent leader. That’s hardly going to change, especially if you corner him like a wild animal.” She interrupted. 

“Killing him is an option,” Vladimir said with a dreamy smile. After a pause and many exhausted glances, he put up his palms, “Just saying.” 

A relatable sentiment, but she couldn’t condone it. Vladimir had been bleeding Enbarr dry of the Emperor’s personal troops for years, which would transform what would otherwise be a bloody coup into a relatively painless transfer of power. “Relegating him into a purely ceremonial figurehead would be adequate.” She explained, “All ministers take on their previous roles, getting full control of their respective domains.” 

Frederic’s lip upturned, “And where do you fit in this scenario?” 

“As Regent. Handling capital affairs.” Patricia had spent more years in the capital of everyone other than Bram, but it made sense. After watching them rule like chickens with their heads cut off for a few decades, she was fairly sure she could get the hang of it. 

“Regent? You?” Her brother asked in a great display of familial faith. 

Patricia made an effort to keep her expression relaxed, “I am the mother of the next emperor and the duty would fall to me if Ionius  _ was _ killed. It’s only right. I’ve spent the last twenty years following every law and petition pushed through the council, courtesy of your thorough scribes.” 

“She’s correct. Though you were not married to Ionius, that is the protocol in the event of his death. Metaphorical death, in this case.” William von Hevring, albeit with a stammer, was useful at last. Bless his nervous heart. 

“I’m in agreement. Volkhard, you can continue in your capacity as executive advisor, correct? We need a delegate to deal with the Kingdom, and you’re the perfect candidate.” Bram von Vestra was acting downright  _ pleasant _ , lately. His sudden change in demeanor made her trust him less than ever. 

“Naturally, I will hand over any tasks that are well suited to your talents when you’re not handling affairs of our own territory.” She promised with a smile, but he didn’t appear comforted. Unfortunate. 

The meeting adjourned, but she caught her brother’s arm and pulled him away to the sculpture hall where they wouldn’t be disturbed. None of the ministers had a particular fondness for art that didn’t sing, dance, or fuck. 

Patricia weaved through the statues leisurely, admiring the Saints and Emperors past. She spoke in a casual tone, “The proper move to make when wresting power away from an emperor is to kill the person next in line. They’re smart enough to figure that out, and I’m not going to stand here and watch my daughter get executed. I need to take her away, stowing her in the Kingdom to prevent the ministers from pursuing her. I would believe that you feel the same way, as her uncle?” 

“What about your duties, Regent?” Volkhard’s light mockery wasn’t lost on her, but she was aiming for his cooperation so she pretended not to notice. He stopped in front of Saint Seiros, captured as a warrior in flawless marbled glory. In her hand, she held the head of Nemesis, King of Liberation. 

“Once I am sure of Edelgard’s safety, I’ll come back to Enbarr and get the Empire running smoothly. You and Frederic can manage without me for a while.” 

“Were you acquainted with Cornelia von Arnim?” He didn’t bother asking why she hadn’t considered the Alliance. The Duke’s country was well organized and leagues ahead of the Kingdom on many fronts. For instance, they had managed to stave off the plague and famine that perniciously clung to the Kingdom’s territories. It was more likely that they would discover Edelgard, and would be entirely too diplomatic about it and just send her back to Enbarr. 

The mage, who Volkhard explained that he had known before she left Adrestia, had deduced the cure to the terrible plague that spread through Faerghus several years prior. Tragically, the breakthrough came weeks too late to save the beloved Queen Georgiana which left the King widowed and their son without a mother. After Cornelia helped cure the plague, she moved on to improving transport and sanitation within the Kingdom. 

Patricia gave him leave to write her, and it was soon agreed that Cornelia would meet them at the border. She would whisk them away to some hidden village where Edelgard would live in secret until Adrestia settled into its new government and the ministers no longer felt threatened by her existence. 

With the date set, Patricia tried to spend more time with her children. 

She checked on them before bed, even Alexei who was recently back after graduating from the Academy. He sighed and told her,  _ I’m a man! I don’t need my mother to put me to bed! _ In a brilliant display of maturity, she crossed her arms until he leaned down for her to kiss her son on the forehead goodnight. 

The triplets were in the peak of their rebellious phase, but no matter how much scratching and sniping they inflicted on each other, they insisted on sharing a room.

Jakob was on track to be taller than his father, gawking with limbs he hadn’t grown into unlike his sisters’ graceful ascents. People often made the mistake of assuming that he was the intimidating one. Vasilisa and Natalia had the beauty and spite of the proudest prima ballerinas, a trait they often weaponized against each other and younger siblings.

With a gentle smile, Jakob let her wish him goodnight, while Vasilisa and Natalia didn’t pause their argument as they briskly said, “Goodnight, Momma.”    


“How could you think Tutor Edith will pick you to welcome the Albinean delegation?” Natalia sighed, pulling her hair up into pin curls for the night. 

Vasilisa fixed her sister with a glacial look and the voice to match. “After your debacle with the Morfis chancellor—remember how you shattered the porcelain vase?—it’s obvious I’m the sibling who inherited all the poise.” 

The last word  _ always _ belonged to Vasilisa.

Down the hall, Irina had her nose in a book. Typical. She had the mind and habits of a grown scholar in a twelve year old’s body, and Patricia scolded her thrice a week for falling asleep in the library. Her mother could barely tear her away from the story for a moment to kiss her forehead, and she left Irina grumbling. 

Filipe and Grigory slept in the same room, which Grigory loved and Filipe hated. Filipe lived like a tornado, mucking up the room with discarded toys and clothes everywhere he went. Getting him to sleep had been a challenge, no matter how much his training mentor tired him out during the day. Grigory, by consequence, was quiet, and he would clean up after Filipe, trailing behind him like a puppy. 

She tucked Filipe into bed despite his squirming, and with a firm look, told the boys to close their eyes and not to open them until morning. 

Edelgard had her own suite, a perk of being the future emperor. Hubert’s room was adjoining, which Patricia had certain opinions about but she kept them to herself. She was already in bed, the little darling, exhausted from her day of riding lessons that she attended with a few other noble children. The von Aegir child was proving to be as intolerable as his father, hounding Edelgard and her future retainer. A yappy dog barking at the two-headed eagle was destined to get torn to bits. 

Instead of intruding, she smiled at her weary daughter from the entryway. 

Something in the interactions felt lacking, though she couldn’t exactly put her finger on  _ what _ . She truly loved her children, but even Patricia could admit that showing affection was not her forté. “Be good for me.” She said to each of them before leaving for the night, looking sternly at their faces. 

“Yes, Momma.” They all replied, tones on a spectrum of excitement to groaning. A greasy and cold pang churned in her stomach. She chalked it up to the fish from dinner. Surely, that was it. 

#

At the beginning of the new calendar year, Maria von Hresvelg was born in the Imperial Palace. Ionius was ecstatic.

The identity of the final co-conspirator made a lot of sense, retrospectively: Anastasia von Gerth. Her father brought her to court to catch the Emperor’s attention, and she bitterly had to admit it was a smart move. Ionius really was that simple. Anastasia was no longer Patricia’s enemy, but she certainly wasn’t her friend.

“Anastasia wanted to traverse higher society, and she can provide more heirs. She reminds me of you actually, when you were younger,” Bram had said the other day. 

_ The next person who uses the word ‘heir’ in my presence is going to get a knife to the back _ . She had elected to ignore the comparison. Perhaps their dreams had aligned, but Patricia had tried to achieve hers with a modicum of dignity. 

Patricia was in Ionius’s company down the hall from Anastasia’s room when it happened. The baby’s cries echoed in the corridor, but she wasn’t going to lift a finger to help. “It’s our daughter who’s in line for the throne.” She reminded him, lounging across a velvet chair.

He ignored her, grinning until his forehead and eyes crinkled. Well, his face crinkled when he wasn’t grinning too. Age had hit him like a slap to the face, and his hair was beginning to grey. His penchant for sweetened wine did his teeth no favors. Rather than tolerate his mood, she rose from her chair with a sigh and walked towards the exit. 

“Where are you going? Ana might need you.” Another nickname.  _ Tch _ . 

She was going to claw his eyes out. She was going to flay his flesh from his bones, grind his marrow, and when she was done there would be nothing left to bury. Patience was easier to muster knowing that soon Ionius would soon be ruined. He had no idea what he’d done. To the people of Adrestia, to Patricia, to his wife. But she no longer had to endure his disrespect. 

“The ‘consort’ is leaving.” Patricia did not glance back, but she did stick her head into the birthing room on her way out of the wing.

The Grand Duchess was at the new mother’s side. Wilhemina had spent most of her recent days with Anastasia; their ease of companionship made sense. They were the same age, had grown up in similar circles, attended the Academy together, and enjoyed many of the same hobbies.

The main difference is that one of them was fucking the other’s father. It was Patricia’s luck she wouldn’t have to endure Ionius and Wilhemina’s foolishness much longer. 

An unusual sense of calm had fallen over the palace, nearly every soul within it aware of the chaos to come, except one. 

On the day her and Edelgard were due to leave, her bags were packed and ready to go. Heidi would accompany them in the village along with Volkhard’s valet, Victor. An unfortunate circumstance in their lives was that having a man in the mix would make their lives easier, especially in a small village. Victor and Heidi would pose as a married couple with Patricia as Heidi’s widowed sister. 

Before leaving, she gave her rooms a last sweep to make sure she didn’t miss anything important. She didn’t trust her brother, but she disliked having to rely on a stranger even less. Any acquaintance of Volkhard was unlikely to be a humanitarian regardless of the whole plague curing thing. 

“I don’t like having to trust this Cornelia person, but I suppose I have no choice.” She mentioned to Heidi while the women went through Patricia’s closet a final time. Though she must have seen Cornelia before she left the Empire, Patricia couldn’t recall her face.

Heidi patted her on the forearm with a reassuring smile, “If Cornelia turns out rude, Volkhard will be there along the way to suffer with us. Then, they’ll leave the town and that’ll be the last of her.” 

There were two more stops she needed to make alone. 

The Empress Consort’s suite had been relatively undisturbed since her death. Underneath the sheets that covered the furniture, everything was as Nina had left it. More times than Patricia would admit, she had come into the rooms, stood in their center, and gotten lost in memories until she couldn’t feel her legs.

Going over to the bed, she pulled the white cover sheet away and laid on her side of the bed underneath. The pillow had stopped smelling like Nina, but Patricia could imagine it well. Bergamot, honey, plus a touch of something unidentifiable and warm.

She could recall in perfect detail the night before Nina left for the Bartels’ estate.

The two women had been lying on the four poster canopy bed, Patricia on her side tucked up against Nina’s taller frame, an abandoned novel between them. They’d read in turns to the children out on the balcony, then to each other after the children had been taken to bed. The tale was about knights and princesses and the senselessness within it made Patricia want to gag. If a princess gets locked up in a tower, no one’s coming to save her. She needs to kill the dragon herself. 

But she indulged Nina, who wanted to keep reading, who always wanted to know the endings of stories no matter how silly, until Patricia couldn’t take it anymore. Nina was leaving tomorrow morning and she didn’t want to waste more time on her poor taste in books. 

“Why not make them come here? Or at least wait to go until I can come with you.” Patricia mumbled into Nina’s shoulder, fully knowing why waiting wasn’t an option. Nina’s health was unpredictable, and she needed to take advantage of her good moments when they happened. Patricia didn’t begrudge her that, but she did resent that she had to stay and take care of the children. 

Nina gave her a scolding look, “Vasilisa made that exact sour expression earlier, and you told her she needed to stop or her face would stick that way.” 

“It happens, just look at William von Hevring. I haven’t seen his mouth stop frowning since 1151. It’s stuck there, he couldn’t change his expression even if he wanted to.” Patricia couldn’t keep a straight face, but it was worth the laughing rumble she felt from Nina.

“Sweetheart, I hate to inform you of this but that’s because William despises you.”

“He doesn’t need to look so ugly about it.” 

A knuckle brushed across Patricia’s cheek, a fond smile on Nina’s face, mirth shining in her eyes. 

“I’ll take care to let him know the next time I see him.” 

“With you gone, I’ll make a plain fool of myself. The whole court will laugh at me, it will be your fault, and I will never forgive you.” Patricia reached up to catch Nina’s hand and twined their fingers together. 

“I doubt it. You’re nearly as good at games as I am, and the lords are much easier to play against. Now, it’s late and I don’t want to keep you from our husband for too many nights. A dutiful wife shouldn’t make the Emperor cross.” There’s that word again:  _ duty _ . Even said with sarcasm, it made Patricia’s skin itch. 

“Please, I haven’t been in his bed in months. We’re occupied with other things, and better off for it.” Patricia rolled her eyes and tugged Nina back down onto their sea of pillows. 

Nina was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was small, “Really?”

Her and Ionius still have their moments, and she can’t deny that they deeply understand each other. Perhaps it’s  _ because  _ she understands him that she can no longer get along with him, and he cannot get along with her. Patricia sighed, “We never got right again after Grigory.” 

“I’ve never forgiven him for what he said to you after Grigory, but you don’t seem very torn up about it.”  _ Anymore _ went unsaid. “Do you regret it? Coming to Enbarr and becoming his consort.” 

Patricia had never really thought about that before, but she considered Nina, her kids, and the things she’d been given. Ionius, at one point, had cared for her. Being the object of his affection had been pleasant, and becoming distant from him didn’t feel like a tragedy either. It was as if she and Ionius were on opposite sides of the same ocean, and rather than trying to swim to meet him, she was much more content to stand on the beach. 

“No.” Patricia told her. A shocking truth, but it was the right answer. “Do you regret marrying him?”

Something simmered deep and strong in the set of Nina’s mouth, eyes staring into a dark place that Patricia couldn’t see. “You might not know, but I was always sickly, prone to illness. But not like this. The miscarriages, the—” She paused and made a gesture with her hand. Even after all these years, she couldn’t talk about the stillborn boy; that pain would never heal. “—made it worse. My children didn’t help, but I don’t hold it against them. For my husband, regret is not the half of it, and I let him know that a long time ago.” 

Patricia recalled the rumours of coldness between the Emperor and the Empress, the distance, and rare appearances together. She’d wondered why Ionius never visited Nina, whether it was from negligence, a request, a fight from long ago, or a combination of all three. 

She wrapped her arms tighter around Nina, “Anger has gotten us far, and we have the rest of a lifetime to see where it can take us.” 

“Well then,” Nina had replied with a kiss to the crown of Patricia’s forehead, “it’s high time I helped you out of those braids. Honestly, how does Heidi make these? Don’t you get headaches?” 

The rest of the night had passed, and the next morning Nina was gone. 

At the vanity, years later the bristles of the ivory hairbrush at the vanity were soft despite disuse. Patricia could feel it running through her hair, hands sectioning the parts and undoing knots until no tangles remained. Their deck of cards, well used but sturdy, she found in the drawer, and that was all she came for. 

In the doorway, she tried to say it. A medium length word, two syllables, and she’d said it plenty of times to plenty of people. Synonyms included: farewell, see you later, safe travels. Nothing came from her throat. All she thought about was an ocean with a disappearing shore. All she thought about was drowning. 

That broken thing in her chest throbbed, although these days it felt like it was scarring over more often than not. Their insurrection, her children, her future served as demands on her time that didn’t allow for much nostalgia. 

She closed the door, and kept her eyes forward until she reached her last destination. The imperial princess was fast asleep in her bed as she ought to have been. Victor appeared behind her, and he began to remove Edelgard’s belongings from the room. Patricia sat softly on the bed beside her for a moment, running a hand across her hair. The brush weighed heavy in her pocket.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, Patricia shook gently. “It’s time to get up. We’re going on a special vacation with Uncle.”

Groggy, her youngest daughter yawned but obediently got up. Patricia pulled her out of bed and started dressing her for the journey in warm and comfortable clothes. Faerghus would already be beginning to chill this time of year. 

Rubbing her eyes, Edelgard looked up at her and asked, “Can I say goodbye to Hubert?” 

“You’ll see him again soon.” Patricia promised with a smile, then led her by the hand through the palace in silence. 

A pair of closed carriages waited for them behind the palace at the workman’s stables. They would take the delivery route, and hopefully no one would notice their absence until morning when it would be too late to pursue. Shortly thereafter, it wouldn’t matter. Frederic and the others would make sure Ionius could never give another order. 

Patricia climbed into the carriage with Volkhard, and Edelgard dropped back off into sleep immediately at her side. Heidi and Victor would be in the second carriage close behind to follow them all the way to Faerghus. 

“I’m glad you and Mrs. Lucas decided to catch up with the rest of us. Were you giving your brood a fond farewell?” Her brother asked, referring to Heidi formally. Volkhard never spent much time with his nieces and nephews, not because he disliked them but rather that he had no idea what to do with children. 

“I didn’t bother. No sense in saying goodbye when they’ll hardly have time to miss me.” She didn’t apologize for making him wait, wrapping a blanket around her daughter instead. 

His eyes widened in a rare break of expression, “Are you sure?” The genuine concern stoked the embers of her anxiety, but it was too late. They had to go or risk another day of being found out. 

“Let’s get on, we have a long journey.” Patricia focused her gaze out the window, and Volkhard knocked on the wall of the car for the coachman to hear. The horses began to move, and that was the last time she saw the Imperial Palace of Enbarr. 




_ The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus _

Cornelia waited for them under the noon sun at the border between Adrestia and Faerghus with a group of knights to escort them.The woman had a thin smile and couldn’t possibly be prepared for the cold in that outfit. 

Patricia climbed out of the car with her brother and wished that her dress was less rumpled. Volkhard approached and took her hand, and they laughed at some comment he made. Strange, considering Volkhard wasn’t known for his sense of humor. He gestured for her to step forward, “Patricia, may I introduce you to Cornelia von Arnim.” 

“Cornelia, I would like to thank you for your assistance and discretion.” She said, imitating her brother’s bow. 

“No trouble at all. Volkhard, why don’t you ride with your niece? Patricia and I can get to know each other, girl-to-girl.” The passengers were rearranged so Cornelia, Heidi, and Patricia shared a carriage while Volkhard, Victor, and Edelgard rode in the other. The terrain was flat and mild in southern Faerghus. The land became quite barren since it was on the leeward side of the western Adrestian mountains, the cruel rules of the natural world being the source of their troublesome famines. 

Patricia was determined not to repeat her mistakes of alienating all the noblewomen in Adrestia. “My mother was from the Kingdom. She rarely talked about it, but she lived in the far north of Gautier territory.” 

“She passed away, correct?”

“Some years ago,” Patricia confirmed. Her mother had been an exasperated woman at best, a distant one at worst. Correspondence was infrequent since she made it known with every line that she believed her daughter had thrown her life away by serving as a ‘harlot’ for the Emperor. Maeve had never visited her daughter or grandchildren in the capital, and Patricia had never been to see her grave back in Arundel. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Ah, I apologize for making you uneasy. Here, eat one of these, you’ll feel better. You too, Heidi.” Cornelia produced a box from her bag and handed it to Patricia. Inside, sat small chocolates colorful like dart frogs, enticing and bright. She popped one in her mouth, biting down on the gooey sweetness, detecting a touch of salt. “Time gone from the palace could be beneficial. Like a rejuvenating vacation.” 

Patricia wouldn’t call this a vacation, but she didn’t have the energy to contest that. “I wish it was not under these circumstances.”

“Don’t fret. Your other children will be well taken care of, and even in a small village you will find many partners to play cards with.” 

Of course, the other children would be fine. There was nothing to be concerned about. She wasn’t worried. “My brother told you much about me in his letters.” 

Cornelia smiled but didn’t answer. Patricia covered her face as a yawn escaped, a heavy weight sinking on her shoulders. Who knew riding in a carriage could be so exhausting? “Please excuse me, the trip must be taking a toll.”

“Go ahead and rest. I’ll wake you when we arrive.” She promised, and Patricia gratefully leaned her head against the carriage wall and passed into sleep. 

Things had been going perfectly to plan. In consequence, everything went to shit right when she could least afford it.

Hours later, the carriage rocked her awake as the horses clipped down a cobblestone street. Her head felt like a stone on top of her shoulders, and she wiped her eyes to look out the window. Outside, there were streets lined with shops and houses tiered along the way. People scurried to and fro with baskets, carts, and animals selling wares. 

This was the heart of a bustling city, and a very far cry from the isolated village she was promised. 

“Where the hell are we?” Her words slurred with grogginess that weighed on her eyelids. Glancing over, she saw that Heidi was out cold. Were they…drugged? 

“Fhirdiad, capital of Faerghus. You have a king to meet with,” Cornelia hummed slightly. 

Patricia blinked. Her thoughts spun in slow circles trying to catch up with the meaning of Cornelia’s words. Fhirdiad. The capital of Faerghus. The exact opposite of where they were supposed to be. “Are you trying to get my daughter killed?”

Cornelia scoffed, “Why would I do that? Edelgard is safe and sound with your brother.” 

“Where?” was all she could say. Adrenaline began to work its way through her veins, eating at the edges of whatever sleeping spell Cornelia had in the chocolates. 

“I suggest you don’t pester me about it unless you want me to hand her back over to the ministers, which I can do at any time.” She sighed, her hands sitting primly in her lap, “I needed a companion with me in Fhidiad, and you’re a good fit. Well, good enough.” Patricia’s vision swam as her brain tried to catch up, the streets and shops flying by out of the window too quick for her to process. What seemed like a second later, they were approaching the castle at the far end of the city. 

The massive fortress sat on a hill looking over Fhirdiad, imposing and grand. Grey stones rose high around the perimeter and she could pick out guards strolling the perimeter atop the wall. The carriages were let through large iron gates that clanged and screeched with rusted mechanisms. When it closed behind them, the clang had an air of finality. 

Heidi woke up in a daze, and Patricia would be unable to recall later if Cornelia spoke to her and explained the situation or not. The spell had a pernicious hold on her mind that rendered her speechless. 

They skirted around the main entrance towards the back which must have been a servants’ door. A driver that was not the man who had driven the carriage from Enbarr to the border opened the door but Patricia didn’t move. 

“Come now, don’t be difficult.” Cornelia sighed, stepping down and offering Patricia a hand. She thought this was Patricia being difficult? What a surprise she had coming. But Heidi took the hand, and Patricia was obligated to follow. It appeared to be her fault that her maid had gotten swept up into this, and Patricia would have to figure some way to get her out of it. She wasn’t often a person afflicted with guilt, but in this she felt truly bad.

Cornelia led them into the castle, winding through dark halls that slowly rose to the higher levels. Murals and ceremonial weapons were mounted on the walls, and she noted the obvious divide between servant’s passageways and any place that royalty may frequent. 

“Alright! These will be your rooms, take some time to freshen up before we go down to greet the King. But not too much time.” Cornelia led them into a space smaller than her suite at the palace, but there was a large bed, good windows, and a room off to the side where Heidi would live. Men brought in their trunks, setting them down on the floor before leaving without a word. Patricia tried to catch one of their eyes, desperately thinking  _ help me _ . 

Cornelia opened one of her trunks and eyed her selection of black clothing, with a few deep purples thrown in for variation. “Don’t you have anything more light hearted to wear? Have you considered adding some colors?” For the majority of her years in the Empire, she had favored rich reds and golds fit for someone in her station. But style changes with time, and the last four years had greatly altered her taste. 

“My wardrobe is perfectly suitable as it is.” Patricia replied, and Cornelia plucked a drop-waisted dark plum dress lined with black embroidery from the trunk. Patricia’s arms moved and she could hear her voice speaking, but it was like she was watching from outside her body. She should be panicking. She should be screaming. But inside her head, quiet reigned. 

Cornelia held a powerful position in the Kingdom, and Fhirdiad was a long, long way from Enbarr where her allies might be able to help. If she were still the favorite consort of an absolute emperor, maybe taking Patricia hostage would have been riskier. Alas, that was no longer the case.  _ Shit _ . 

“I assume you’re familiar with Faerghan etiquette? Splendid.” Cornelia said before Patricia could answer  _ no _ . “A servant is waiting outside to bring you downstairs when you’re ready. I need to go down and talk over some issues before we get to the fun introductions.” 

Cornelia left them alone, but Patricia heard her say something to the person in the hall. Sitting on the vanity stool, Patricia looked in the mirror and saw that Heidi was on the bench at the foot of the bed. Her head was slowly rousing, and she could tell this was the time she was supposed to say something comforting. “I’m so sorry, Heidi. I know how difficult this must be for you.” 

“No,” she responded in a quiet voice, “You don’t.” 

A pause, and her heart sank. “My apologies.” 

Patricia finished brushing through her hair, washed her face, and dressed in the plum dress that was neither nice nor not-nice with Cornelia’s threats echoing in her head. She’d known the mage for all of six hours, and did not doubt for a moment that she would kill Edelgard without hesitation. Patricia was going to have to take her time and move cautiously until she saw an opportunity to break free from Cornelia’s grasp.

Heidi didn’t move from her spot on the bench, and Patricia didn’t bother her until she tapped her on the shoulder to signal that she was ready to go. Wordlessly, the two women let themselves be escorted to the reception hall of Castle Fhirdiad. Her neck weighed on her shoulders, and her thoughts slogged a little less as the spell began to fade.

King Blaiddyd, incredibly tall, blond, and smiling, stood in front of his retinue in a broad reception hall lined with portraits, more tapestries, and valuable relics. A slightly shorter man with shoulder length black hair stood behind him that she guessed was Duke Fraldarius. Although she’d never met any Faerghus nobles, she had heard them described in the context of trade dealings in many council meetings over the years. At the King’s side, a boy of about nine fidgeted in formal clothes until an older knight in orange prodded him in the back to be still. 

“Wonderful timing!” Cornelia turned with wide arms to urge Patricia and Heidi forward. Begrudgingly, she walked up to Cornelia’s side to participate in the charade. “May I present Lady Patricia Finavaire, a close friend of mine.” Cornelia elbowed her hard in the side. Jaw tight, she curtsied. 

Patricia resisted the urge to laugh under her breath. Was her brilliant plan to lie about Patricia’s identity? There’s no way that would work. Someone in this castle must have seen her in Enbarr before who would know her true name. 

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Patricia.” King Blaiddyd greeted them, his blue eyes lighting up and posture improving to perfection. 

Patricia defaulted to the manners of decorum and responded coyly, “The pleasure is all mine, your Majesty.” 

Coming forward, the King bent at the waist and kissed her outstretched hand. “Cornelia speaks of you often.” She barely contained the impulsive urge to strike out and smack the pretty mage’s face. Of course bringing Patricia to Fhirdiad was no quick decision. She had set this up gradually, precisely over time. But Cornelia’s eyes flashed with an emotion that Patricia was intimately familiar with as Lambert held her hand gently in his grip. Jealousy. 

She put warmth in her eyes, the slightest tilt to her head, and tucked in her chin an inch. Smiling true, Patricia teased, “All good things?” 

“Only the very best.” The Duke’s mild expression was much less enthused than his liege’s. 

"How rude of me! Let me introduce you to my good friend, Duke Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius, and my son, Dimitri.” She curtsied again though her movement was limited with the King’s hold on her hand, and they bowed in return. Her and the Duke regarded each other as their genteel pleasantries masked mutual appraisal. “Tricia—may I call you Tricia?" The King asked. 

_ Tricia _ made her skin want to crawl off, but she didn’t have a choice. She had to allow it with a smile. "Certainly, your Majesty."

"Please, call me Lambert. I hate titles among friends." He let go of her hand at last with a pink flush gracing his cheeks. She folded her hands together at her waist and walked by his side to dinner, where she poked and prodded with questions that he boastfully answered. 

That night was hard. Around midnight, the spell fully wore off, and she could hear Heidi crying in her room. Patricia tossed and turned, never falling asleep as her body caught up to the reality of the situation she found herself in. 

One idea that plagued her was whether or not Volkhard was a co-conspirator with Cornelia. She recalled his displeased expression at the last council meeting. They had never been particularly close or trusting but this sort of betrayal was unprecedented. 

Cornelia came in person to fetch them for breakfast the next morning. 

“I’m giving them my real name.” She announced. Lambert and his circle had never met her, but they would know who she was by name. Was it an ideal move to tell the King of Faerghus that she was the mother of a foreign future emperor? No, but she had few choices left. 

“I’ll give the order for my people to slit your daughter’s throat.” The mage responded, nonplussed. Patricia said nothing else, and Cornelia knew she’d won this round. But another plan would come to her soon, surely.

#

Not long after her arrival, Lambert brought her along to show off the royal gardens. Although this was northern Faerghus, they had a very, very brief summer season that lasted long enough for flowers to come into bloom. The King had invited her to join him for several afternoon activities, and gaining Lambert’s friendship might get her back to the Empire. Somehow. She hadn’t figured that part out yet. 

The artful arrangements of daffodils, petunias, and pansies brought color to the grey and looming structures of Castle Fhirdiad. Yet, it was hard to stop and enjoy them with the brisk pace that Lambert had set. On their other outings, it was horseback riding or walks like these that included a lot of movement. He didn’t seem the type for tea and cards. 

Cornelia and Rodrigue trailed them through the hedges and butterfly bushes, because for some reason Patricia and the King were never left alone together. The King grinned at her side as he recounted fragments of stories from his youth until one tangent blended into another. She nodded along, too tired to contribute many questions. 

He must have noticed when he wrapped up a memory of him and Rodrigue terrorizing the gardeners on accident by picking all the flowers to give them to other servants in the castle. Clearing his throat he asked, “What do you think of our gardens?” 

“There aren’t any roses.” Maybe it was better that way so she was less reminded of the brilliant rose gardens at the palace in Enbarr where she spent so many afternoons with Nina or the children. She tried to think of them as little as possible when she was out and about on the grounds. 

“Right you are; we ought to have some installed. Are those your favorite?” His casual charisma was enviable, a result of a carefree nature that had been the right amount of checked and nurtured.

She shook her head, “I doubt they would survive long in this climate.”

“Beautiful things should be enjoyed, if only for a little while.” 

“To spend the rest of your time missing them?” 

His eyes went somewhere far away for a moment, the smile freezing on his face. A heavy pause hung in the air. She almost opened her mouth to apologize, but was saved by the prince running into their path. “There’s my son!” Lambert said, lifting Dimitri into the air and spinning him around before putting him safely back down. 

The boy frowned and stared at the ground. Dimitr reminded her of Jakob when he was younger, often getting upset for one reason or another. Too soft for his own good. “What’s the matter?” She asked, kneeling down to his level. 

“Felix is mad at me,” He grumbled, kicking at the dick path. “We were in the training grounds when he tripped and skinned his knees. It hurt, so he cried a bit and this other boy laughed at him! I got mad and picked up a rock and said I’d throw it at him. I didn’t mean it, but I gripped it too hard and it crumbled into pieces. His face turned white and his eyes got real big, then he ran off. Fe yelled at me ‘cause he doesn’t want me to stand up for him and he can do it himself. But I couldn’t help it. I know I shouldn’t get angry. I don’t mean to, but I break things.”

“There are no wrong emotions to have when you, or someone you love, gets mistreated. Trust your gut and try to put those feelings to use.” She told him, loud enough for Cornelia to hear. “Anger is a call to action to stop others from doing wrong. Sometimes, fear is what they deserve.” She looked up to see the mage watching her, the woman’s eyes flaring with contempt. Patricia stared back unfazed, “Sometimes, fear is what they need.” 

#

The Insurrection went off without a hitch. Public opinion had turned wildly against Ionius and the number of Imperial battalions in the city were so few after Vladimir drawing them out in the past few years that they didn’t attempt to push back the ministers’ forces. The papers were signed and the Emperor was no more than a puppet upon an empty throne. 

For now. 

Cornelia allowed Heidi and Patricia to send letters back to their families in Enbarr. Undoubtedly, Cornelia read them, so Patricia didn’t include any sensitive or distressing information. All she said was that she was well and everything was going to be fine (hopefully true). She glossed over the details of her and Edelgard’s disappearance, and explained that Edelgard wasn’t available to answer any letters (unfortunately true). 

The council had placed the children under house arrest but were otherwise treating them fairly. Natalia, on behalf of all the triplets, and Alexei wrote to her the most often. They included messages from Irina and Filipe. Grigory, who was too young to understand what was happening or why she was no longer there to care for him, refused to speak to her but she wrote him notes anyway. 

They confided more of their lives and thoughts to her in these letters than they had when she was physically with them. Vasilisa had taken up violin and given it up instantly, which meant that Irina could pick it up and make actual progress. Jakob and Alexei were doing their best to keep the peace among everybody, not an easy feat. Natalia said that Maria was growing up fine. Maybe they told Patricia this much because they had no one else to talk to and too much time on their hands. 

No one mentioned Nina’s children, their father, or Anastasia. Patricia wasn’t sure she wanted to know about Ionius’s current state, but surely she would have been told if he was dead. 

Heidi hadn’t spoken much since they were brought to Fhirdiad. Patricia couldn’t blame her, but she knew her and her family corresponded. The maid had never been particularly forthcoming to begin with, and she had stopped trying to press her. Until Patricia found a way to get them out of this, she couldn’t find much to say either. 




In hindsight, she should have seen this coming. She had that feeling a lot these days.

As Cornelia’s honored friend and guest, she’d received an invitation to the Verdant Rain Festival with gilded golden lettering weeks beforehand, but wavered on whether or not to attend. On one hand, in a large gathering she might be recognized and taken away from this horrid place; and it was horrid despite the comforts she’d been given. A cage is a cage no matter the finery inside. On the other hand, she might get recognized and then Cornelia would have Edelgard killed. 

“His Majesty will expect you to go. It’s exciting, a night of distraction and fun.” Heidi said with a smile, a sight that Patricia didn’t often see these days. If Patricia went to the dance, Heidi would get to enjoy the outside festivities. The celebration heralded the end of summer in anticipation of the cold months, though the only distinguishing factor between autumn and winter was how much snowfall Faerghus got each day. A strange thing to celebrate in her opinion. 

Regardless, her maid and perhaps only real ally in Faerghus deserved a festival if that’s what she wanted. Patricia smiled back, “I suppose you have a point.” 

Weeks later, the great hall was filled with music, brilliant lights, and the finest wines that royal coffers could buy. Patricia wore a high necked black gown with sheer long sleeves and a detailed skirt that flowed gracefully along the white marble flooring. 

The Margrave and Margravine were in attendance, though their rascal children were running around the palace somewhere with the others. Emilia was his second wife, whom he married after his first wife failed to produce a child with a crest. Patricia shivered to think how similar her fate might have been if she had not made Ionius fall in love with her. During one song, she caught sight of Lambert spinning Emilia around the dance floor, and that was the only time she’d see Emilia smile. 

People milled about, and she didn’t want to make small talk with nobles she’d never heard of but it couldn’t be helped. She introduced herself as Lady Patricia Finavaire from the Empire, friend to the venerable mage Cornelia. Many of them mentioned how the new roads made cross-country travel safer and the famine easier to bear..

Empire nobles hadn’t hesitated to disparage Ionius behind his back—it was suspicious if people didn’t—but the Faerghans were not similarly inclined. It made sense, given that loyalty was a lauded trait and the militaristic style gave Lambert a tighter grip on his people. Plus, he was simply a better ruler. She’d spent enough time with him to figure that out. 

At last, the welcome face of Rodrigue broke through the crowd alongside the unwelcome face of Cornelia. Even at a celebration, the Duke had an alertness to him that never fully relaxed. Or maybe that was just something he did around Patricia. Regardless, Cornelia greeted her, “A merry summer’s end to you, and may we celebrate many more in the future.”

Patricia bowed back and said nothing, but did throw a civil smile in Rodrigue’s direction. 

“A happy festival to you, my lady. I would be honored if you would share a dance with me in celebration?” He asked with a proper bow before holding out his hand. She bowed in return, since she had been kindly informed that women don’t curtsy in Faerghus after her initial introduction. 

Taking his hand, they ventured onto the floor as music swirled in the air, a pleasant melody of string instruments that reminded her of home. The dances weren’t entirely unfamiliar, but had a stiffer step composition than the flourishing traditionals of Adrestia. Rodrigue’s patient guiding steps might have also helped her keep up.

“This is a fine event, it’s left quite the impression on everybody I’ve talked to.” Patricia had rarely, maybe never, had the chance to talk to Rodrigue alone before, but this conversation was basic instinct. 

“His Majesty always has a great many ideas for these events, and it pleases him to please the people. As I’m sure you’ve noticed,” he added quickly. 

“I’ve spent enough time with the King to get a sense of that, yes.” Which he damn well knew. Rodrigue hovered like a chaperone behind them, and when he was indisposed, Cornelia slipped into the role. 

“And how have your other observations shaped your opinion of His Majesty thus far?” His courteous smile didn’t waver, but the slight edge in his voice was unmistakable. Rodrigue’s protective nature had been noticeable from the night they met. The watchful eye, a cautious counterpart to Lambert’s ambitious ideals, and an understanding of him that bordered on uncanny. 

“To be candid, Faerghus is much better off than Adrestia when it comes to monarchs.” A low bar, but very true. Despite his occasional lapses in judgement, Lambert approached his duties to the throne with an exuberance and care that Ionius never matched. “The King is more balanced than the Emperor, but no ruler is without faults. However, his advisors work to make up the leaps in logic that certain traits of his may create.” 

The Duke blinked in surprise, not anticipating that answer. He took a moment to find his words, but eventually landed, “I’m pleased you’ve found Faerghus an upgrade from your previous situation.”

That wasn’t what she said, but if that’s what he believed, then fine. In this country, it was better to be more enamored with the royal family than not. “May I ask a question in return? What is your opinion of Cornelia?”

“She’s been a wonderful servant to the Kingdom, and I would measure her dedication to almost match my own,” he stated plainly. “Her improvements to the structure of Faerghus have been more beneficial and innovative than I could have hoped, and we would be worse off without her.” His assessment of Cornelia wasn’t unexpected, but disappointment rang through her all the same. One day, she’d meet someone else who had a bone to pick with Cornelia, and it would be the best day of her life. 

The song’s last notes faded in perfect timing to end their conversation, and they stepped apart and bowed once more. “Thank you for the dance, Duke Fraldarius, and your candor.” 

“The honor is all mine, Lady Finavaire.” His eyes fell sad, and the turn of his brow suggested melancholy. She opened her mouth to ask what had happened but before she could speak, they were interrupted by a cheery voice. 

“What a beautiful dancer, and such delicate ankles! I’ve never seen a more graceful partner!” Lambert’s arrival never came unannounced, and she turned to bow and smile. Her cheeks were starting to hurt. 

“Excellent observation, your Majesty.” Rodrigue replied through gritted teeth, which Lambert did not detect.

“I thought you disliked titles among friends?” She’d never heard the Duke call Lambert by his name in public, not even in the private conversation they just held. 

“I do, but telling him that for thirty years hasn’t done any good.” The King sighed with false disappointment, clapping Rodrigue on the back. 

“Give it thirty more and then we’ll see,” Rodrigue joked, and the two men continued to banter but she could hardly focus.

The room had become too hot for comfort, and being faced with this many people for the first time in years was taking a great toll. Though it might be rude, she had to get out of there if only for a minute. “If you will excuse me gentlemen, I could use a bit of fresh air,” and without waiting for their permission, she made her way out to the large balcony abutting the hall. 

Luckily, everyone was more invested in staying inside to revel. The night air hit her on the empty balcony with a cool blast that was immediately relieving. But the calm ended when she heard steps behind her, and she twisted to see that Lambert had followed her outside. Patricia felt a strange sense of deja vu as he stood next to her, gazing at the stars with delight. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” He broke the silence to ask, leaning against the railing to face her. 

“It’s a lovely night.” She responded neutrally, keeping her palms flat on the stone in front of her as it leached out some of their warmth. Lambert let out a heavy sigh, a real one this time, and it was uncharacteristic enough that Patricia glanced over to see him staring at her with something intense and sharp in his eyes. 

“Tricia, Cornelia has told me of your troubles with exile, and I cannot stand by the wayside and watch you struggle. You deserve better than the cards you've been dealt,” he smiled, so proud that he remembered she liked cards, “and I have wanted to confess something to you for a while now. When you arrived in Fhirdiad, I could scarcely believe my eyes. Such a beautiful woman, and since your arrival I’ve only fallen more and more in love by the minute.” He reached over and took her right hand, lowering down to one knee, “Will you take my hand in marriage?” 

Oh. Oh those  _ fuckers _ . Cornelia, and probably her brother too, must have had their grubby hands all over this, pushing him to propose. Otherwise, he’d never offer his hand to a common,  _ supposedly exiled _ woman from Adrestia. 

Her corset felt tight. "Lambert, I can't let you do this. I barely know Faerghus, not enough to help you rule it. More than that, I am too old, you’ll get no heirs out of me." 

Lambert laughed from his chest and raised her knuckles to his lips, "What else could I possibly want in a child that I do not already have? Dimitri is perfect! Love is many things, but not usually politically convenient. You help me just by being here by my side, that’s all I ask." 

“What did Rodrigue say when you asked him about this?” This proposal would explain the Duke’s resignation at the end of their dance, because Lambert had, without a doubt, discussed this with Rodrigue beforehand. 

“I’m not asking you to marry Rodrigue. He is a friend before an advisor and wishes for my happiness.” So, the duke  _ had _ advised against it. 

“Marrying me would make you happy.” It was a question and a statement. She had guessed his affections, they were overt, but this was a terrible decision on his part. Clearly, the fair judgement she’d expressed to Rodrigue during their conversation had been woefully misplaced. 

“I want no one else but you. Marry me Tricia, and the years ahead of us will be the happiest of our lives.” He shone with hope and warmth that left her speechless. He was a man in love and he meant it. Patricia’s thoughts raced around for a way out of this and came up empty. A hurricane of panic tore through every fiber of her body, shredding her to pieces until she felt nothing at all. There was no other plan, no solution that she could come up with. What could she do but say yes? 

#

The evil hag was waiting for her in a study down the hall from Patricia’s suite. 

After accepting the proposal, Patricia pleaded exhaustion from overexcitement and begged off from the rest of the activities. Lambert had to stay, leaving her free to hunt down Cornelia and wretch answers out of the mage if it was the last thing she did.  The blanket of numbness that draped over her during Lambert’s proposal dissolved at the sight of Cornelia. “You told them I was exiled?” She snapped, not waiting for the door to close behind her before letting loose. 

“Because you are.” Cornelia produced a piece of parchment from her satchel and held it out, barely glancing towards Patricia. Snatching it out of her hand, she ripped it open to find an order signed by six higher ministers, and Emperor Ionius IX. The words in front of her blurred into an unrecognizable language. Distantly, Cornelia went on, “It quickly became clear that the king was in love with you, and marrying you off is suitable for our needs.” 

“ _Our_ needs being whose? Because it certainly doesn’t suit me.” Rage burned behind her eyes, coursing down to her shaking hands and she let it show in her voice. Heat radiated through the room from the fire and, in her mind, she pictured herself dragging Cornelia by the hair and pushing her face down into the coals. Before, she told Dimitri that some people deserve fear. If she could redo their conversation, she would amend the statement and tell him that some people deserve pain. A lot of pain. 

Cornelia gave her a dry look. “Stupidity is a bad look on you, Patricia. Guess.” 

Her breath caught in her chest.  _ Volkhard _ . He had wanted the position of Regent since the beginning. He had been the one to suggest asking for Cornelia’s help and set up their meeting. They had to have been working together since the beginning. 

“I have seven children waiting for me in the palace. I have a future to rebuild for my daughter.” A future for Edelgard was a future for Patricia. 

“Tall and blonde is your type, or so I’ve been told, you’ll make do.” Cornelia lounged across the length of the couch, a catlike grin on her face. Her brother had really spared no details in his reports. The mage continued, “Patricia, you would be an awful regent. Tell me, what would you do if you went back? You think Frederic von Aegir is going to be kind to you back in the Empire? You think he won’t crush you under his imperial thumb since he can get away with it? If your ending won’t be happy, at least it can be comfortable. Lambert will make you Queen Consort.” 

Her year in Faerghus had beaten into her how out of control she was of her own life, but perhaps her control had been an illusion from the start. Her own brand of naivety. The iron hold on her destiny that she’d spent years grasping should not have been so easy to take away. Patricia took a few deep breaths, but they did nothing to soothe the brittle ache spreading through her bones. 

“What use is a title that I don’t pick for myself?” Patricia wished she sounded stronger, but a hoarse rasp was what she managed. She couldn’t decide if the thing she was feeling was whiplash or a spiral, but her rage, spent, wasn’t around to help anymore. For better or worse, the blankness crept back. 

“It appears you’re going to find out.” Cornelia shrugged, and they sat in silence for a long time before Patricia managed to numbly take herself to bed. 

#

Heidi finally got to help ready Patricia for her wedding day. The dress belonged to Lambert’s mother, a chiffon layer cake of lace, pearls, and crystal of an older style. Vintage was a generous description. A cloak of cream colored furs draped over her shoulders to keep out the cold, gifted to her by Lambert. Among a new horse, an embellished silver dagger, and other small favors, none of which were overly frivolous or wasteful that fit with the Kingdom’s highly valued principle of practicality.

The ceremony was held in the largest cathedral in Fhirdiad, but they had traveled in a demure carriage in the late night when most in the city had gone to bed. Witnesses were few. Rodrigue, Glenn, Dimitri, Cornelia, Rufus, who had only been invited at Cornelia’s behest, and Heidi stood on either side of the bishop. They would tell no one else. Patricia would be a secret, or at least as much of an open secret that she already was. 

Lambert had paced in the back of the room while Rodrigue explained how beloved Georgiana had been, how the ‘people’ weren’t ready to move on yet. The King interjected with  _ I’m sorry  _ and  _ I hope you understand _ nearly every other minute. 

She wasn’t a fucking amateur; she understood perfectly. She’d smiled and said  _ Of course, _ because she wasn’t left with another option. He’d kissed her on the forehead with a relieved grin, and three days later, she stood at an altar feeling much more like a sacrificial lamb than a bride. The bishop prattled on about service, love, the goddess and her grace. The beauty of dedication and loyalty to one another. 

"Do you vow to upkeep the noble pursuits of duty, honor, sacrifice, and love in the name of this sacred bond to partner and country?" He asked with a wane smile. Lambert was beaming beside her. 

She stood there in his mother’s wedding dress, a veil pulled back from her face, and stared past the bishop to see a font of blessed water on the wall reflecting the moonlight. A weak draft propelled thin ripples across the surface that may as well have been roaring waves. The pool was an ocean out of reach. 

"I do." Patricia said, the words hammering in her head like a nail into a coffin. The audience cheered as Lambert leaned down to kiss her, and she didn’t even cry. Her mother would be so proud. 




Wifehood was not what she expected.  Obviously, Lambert was a far, far cry from Ionius, but she thought noblemen shared an array of traits at their base. Infidelity, superiority complexes, arrogance. She didn’t know a single lord in Adrestia who didn’t dally on the side except her brother and the Marquis ( _ There’s _ an idea). But she slept in Lambert’s bed every night that he was home. 

There were no rumors of mistresses or bastard pregnancies. She’d been worried about his, ah, crest strength in bed but luckily he and Georgiana had figured out how to toe the line between fun and safety. It was fine. 

What Patricia couldn’t stand were the gentle touches, the warmth of his hand holding hers, the brush of lips on her forehead as she fell asleep. She knew she was looking a gift horse in the mouth. He was handsome, he was kind and generous with his affection, but she couldn’t enjoy his devotion. 

Flames, he loved her. Genuinely, honestly loved  _ Patricia _ . And she wasn’t even sure what that meant. In hindsight, she’d loved that Ionius had trusted her. Depended on her. Given her domain over people and places. The attention. But she hadn’t loved Ionius. He was shy, lazy, irresponsible, and foolish. When she’d run out of excuses for his behavior and other places to occupy her attention, his vices became intolerable. 

If this were one of Nina’s storybooks, Patricia would have fallen deep, deep in love with Lambert. But the real story read like this: Patricia could have become a woman fit to love him, once. Perhaps, Patricia von Arundel could have grown into a goodhearted and happy queen in a union that poets wrote about. She could have loved without losing and losing and losing, but that story was for naive children which she was not and could never afford to be again. 

#

Cornelia chose a rainy afternoon to disturb Patricia in the drawing room adjacent to the royal suite, where in policy she was supposed to remain  _ un _ disturbed. Lately, she’d seen Cornelia less and less as she took long absences from the castle to do work around the Kingdom. Or so she said. “I need you to do something for me.” 

“And I need you to fuck off and die.” Patricia made a rude gesture in the mage’s direction. A fire burned to fight against the chill, but in Fhirdiad there was no escaping the cold completely. Her book was mild, but Patricia would rather eat the dry pages of an agricultural report than discuss anything with Cornelia. 

Unbothered, she continued, “The Premier Mage is growing old and rumor is that he’s going to announce his retirement soon. There are already deliberations for his replacement.” 

“Why in Nemesis’s name would I do you a favor?” Patricia asked as she turned a page, settling deeper into the chaise where she was resting. 

“Because I’ll give you Edelgard. I’ll bring her to court.” 

Patricia put down her book. She trusted the mage as far as she could throw her, but if this was a real opportunity to have her daughter back, then Patricia would never forgive herself for passing it by. Cooperating with Cornelia would be her best bet at getting her daughter back, loathe as she was to admit it. She had to bite. “What is this theoretical favor?” 

With caution, she’d pressed Cornelia for updates on her daughter’s whereabouts and wellbeing but had been rebuffed each time with the same threat. To see her again, with Patricia’s own eyes, was more than she’d anticipated being offered. She was a little disappointed in herself that she had fallen into a rut that was growing harder to climb out of. It was easier to drift away as she watched over Dimitri than try to find her way out of the impossible maze that Cornelia had dropped her in. The futile effort left her more dejected each time she tried. 

“Advise Lambert to promote me to Premier Mage. Erebus’s retirement is long overdue, and since it’s essentially a personal appointment, Lambert’s final word is what matters. And you’re going to make sure he decides that the next Premier Mage will be me.” Cornelia said without her usual tone of superiority. Patricia scrutinized her expression for deceit, but her eyes gave nothing away. 

If Patricia had paid more attention, she might have known what the hell a Premier Mage even did. Since she didn’t know, then it couldn’t be that influential of a position. At least not any more than the place that Cornelia currently held at court. The risk was worth the potential benefit. 

“Remember, it’s my recommendation that gets you this position. And I can take it away just as easily.” 

The smugness that finally appeared on Cornelia’s face made her want to vomit, but what else could she do? The mage would either keep her word or she wouldn’t, and, as always, Patricia would figure out where to go from there. “We have a deal.” She preened, but Patricia was already returning to her book. The fire burned many degrees warmer as Cornelia bowed and exited. 

#

In a stunning turn of events, Cornelia kept her word, but with a catch. The person bringing Edelgard to Fhirdiad would be Volkhard, who Patricia had neither seen nor heard from since that fateful day at the border. Regardless, she’d take the salt with the sweet to see Edelgard. 

Patricia was not there to greet her brother and daughter when they arrived in Fhirdiad. Lambert would welcome them in the great hall like he had done with Patricia once upon a time. Cornelia brought him here under the pretense of some Empire business, and Edelgard would be here to meet Dimitri as a future emperor needs to meet a future king. No, after she saw the carriages roll through the gates, she paced across the room like she was trying to burn a path into the floor. 

What seemed like a lifetime later, Lambert, Rodrigue, and Cornelia came through the door with Volkhard in tow. Behind her brother’s legs, a girl whose hair was a little longer and body grown a little taller peered at Patricia. She couldn’t breathe. In the years gone by, she’d forgotten what it felt like to have her children within reach. 

Rodrigue, smiling politely as ever, gestured to her brother, “Lady Patricia, I would like to introduce you to Volkhard von Arundel, a prominent man in the Empire’s government as you well know.” Volkhard bowed and Patricia bowed in return like she would with any stranger before Rodrigue stepped aside and held out a hand to Edelgard. She placed her tiny hand in his and stepped forward, head held high. “And this is his niece, future Emperor of Adrestia, Edelgard von Hresvelg.” 

They almost,  _ almost _ held it together. But Edelgard was young and Patricia was foolish.  A second passed before Edelgard’s eyes watered, and Patricia let go of the breath she’d been holding and she couldn’t think, oh  _ fuck _ did she stop thinking. 

“Momma!” Edelgard cried and ran forward, Patricia dropping to her knees to meet her. They threw their arms around each other, and she closed her eyes and held, held on to the moment.

Yet, all moments end too soon. Her brain kicked into gear, and spikes of bored into her bones. Patricia froze with her daughter in her arms and chanced a look up at her husband. He glanced down at her, registering Edelgard’s lavender eyes, her hair a few shades lighter than her mother’s. Flickering to Volkhard and seeing the same.  _ Her and her brother’s lavender irises were unusual, and, or so she’d been told, entrancing _ . 

“I can explain.” She could barely hear her own voice over the pounding of blood in her ears. 

His face turned cool and impartial, the way she saw on the throne or in conversations with obstinate nobles. “Please, start talking.” 

#

She’d put everything into her performance. The time for pride had passed, so she cried, begged, and threw herself at his mercy for understanding. She had fled the Empire under false pretense because it was unsafe, she would have been killed if she’d been found (not an entirely unfounded theory), and how, as a mother, she would do anything to protect her daughter. She’d come to court to secure safety for Edelgard, but one thing led to another and they were married. The moment that Volkhard had been able to bring Edelgard to court, she couldn’t resist the selfish gamble. 

The right amount of truth, tears, and leading words made up the most vital plea of her life. He listened, then he left. In the hours before he returned, she frankly resigned herself to being thrown back to the snakes of the Empire. It had to be a show of talent to become a personal traitor to the monarchs of two countries. Surely, very few people could claim to have done it. 

But as much as Lambert was fair, he was in love with Patricia. Her curse and her boon. So, he decided to let Volkhard and Edelgard stay for their business, and Patricia would remain in the Kingdom since there was no evidence that she held ill will towards the Kingdom, its citizens, or himself. Effectively nothing would change, but she was warned to never lie this again as he would not be so gracious a second time. 

That’ll work. 

Her brother requested to see her late that evening, so she’d brought him to the drawing room where she had taken to spending more and more time. A servant brought snacks, tea, and various alcohols her brother would certainly sample before leaving. 

When he arrived, he wore a small and weary smile. “I’m relieved to see you.”

“Are you? Or are you just glad to not have my murder on your conscience?” She didn’t have the energy to pretend to be pleasant, not that she had much to start with. Traitors lined her life. Saints, she was one of them, but while her and Volkhard played dirty, the sniped at one another, she had never sold him out in any way to deserve what he’d done to her alongside Cornelia. 

“Patricia, I firmly instructed her to pretend not to know you in the company of others, but you know children. They get overexcited.” He sat in the padded green chair across from her by the fire, and she could barely stand it. 

“Wouldn’t it be easier for you to kill me anyway? With me out of the way, the Regent’s duties naturally fall to you. You colluded with Cornelia, for months, maybe longer, telling her about me and my habits, all to get me exiled and trapped here.” 

His mouth dropped open, eyes wide in shock. “What in Seiros’s name are you talking about?” The clueless act was not endearing, but she could make him own up if he was too cowardly to do it from the start. She strode over to her writing desk to provide proof. Cornelia let her keep the order of exile. Whenever Patricia felt dejected, she took it out of the drawer and let the sheer force of spite inspire her to keep going.

He studied it for a second before holding it back to her, “My signature is a forgery. I’ve been in the Kingdom this entire time.” 

“In the Kingdom? I didn’t know you cared that much.” She said while her mind tried to decide how he could be telling the truth. But, if he had arrived with Edelgard, it wasn’t unthinkable that he had been with her the entire time.

“I’m not heartless, Patricia. I wasn’t going to abandon my nine year old niece and future emperor in a strange country with no friends or guarantee of safety. Or without knowing where my sister was kidnapped to. I wasn’t working with Cornelia, and she’s railroaded me as well. Why would I have schemed to prevent myself from returning to the Empire and becoming Regent, as you’ve cleverly assumed?” He let out a humorless laugh, and she noticed the lines around his eyes that cut sharper than her own. “I wrote Cornelia one letter. I never spied on you for her, and I certainly didn’t help her with this plot.” 

She looked at her brother and it was like seeing him for the first time. He’d changed while she wasn’t paying attention, and five years should not have made him look so old. While she’d been persuasive in enlisting his help to hide Edelgard in the Kingdom, he wasn’t forced to help. And Patricia wasn’t sure that she would have done the same if their positions had been switched. Maybe she would have done exactly what she assumed he’d done and betrayed him, but the hypothetical would likely never be tested. 

This called into question if exile was legitimate in any capacity and whether Patricia, again, had been fooled. Bracing her hands on the desk, she closed her eyes and swallowed that bitter thought deep, deep down for later contemplation. 

“Bram has as many spies in the Kingdom as he does in the Empire. They must report to Cornelia, since the lot of them planned to oust us together.” That explained his positive attitude towards her before she left Enbarr, but how had he known she would flee to the Kingdom? She supposed it wasn’t such a large leap in logic that he would have been prevented from figuring out her intentions. 

Volkhard shook his head, “I doubt it was Bram. Frederic is much more likely to want us both out of the picture.” 

“We’ll keep a close eye on Cornelia and if we play our cards right, maybe we can get all of us back to Adrestia.” She frowned, putting a hand to her forehead. A headache was blooming behind her eyes. 

He let out a heavy sigh and she could hear his fingertips tapping against the chair. His tone was not what she would describe as  _ hopeful _ as he concluded, “You were always better at cards than von Aegir. Let’s hope that’s enough.” 

#

“A hundred strokes every night before bed is the secret to soft and beautiful hair.” The ivory hairbrush moved through Edelgard’s brown hair with ease. 

“But it takes so long,” her daughter complained. “I miss Mina. She didn’t make me play with boring dolls and stay inside!” 

Patricia had received letters from the other children recently. They were glad to hear that Edelgard was well, and she could give them actual details. Vasilisa sent a seven page complaint about every one of her siblings, Irina gave her a list of books she recommended and a list of some that she thought should be burned for their bad quality, and Alexei told her that flirting prospects were abysmal since he couldn’t leave the castle walls. 

“ _ Wilhemina _ could let you do that because you were at the palace. Faerghus has different rules, and that means you need to stay in the house bounds. Stop squirming.” She placed a hand on Edelgard’s shoulder to encourage her to stop fidgeting. They had fifty strokes remaining. 

“She calls me El. So does Dima.” Her lower lip stuck out, but pouting would get her nowhere. 

Patricia pinched the bridge of her nose. She wouldn’t mind Edelgard’s complaining if it was the only irritant of her day, but her brother had decided to start acting like a stranger. He’d started downright ignoring and avoiding her, and when she was able to catch him, he acted like he dodged all of her questions about Cornelia and his ‘business’ with the Kingdom. A complete mercurial spin from their conversation the other day, this change would take her more time to figure out. Between the two of them, her patience was burning down the wick. 

Goddess, couldn’t one thing be easy? 

“How were you at her age, my Lady?” Heidi asked from where she was folding laundry behind them. Patricia glanced back at her, eyes roving over her tired hands. Like Patricia, Heidi had adapted to life in Faerghus as best she could. When she learned Edelgard was coming to stay in Fhirdiad, however, she quietly asked to be excused for the day. Patricia was not the only one missing her daughter, but she didn’t know what could be done about it. 

There was a memory she kept from her pre-teen years close to the chest from an afternoon where her and Volkhard had been out in the woods, roaming unsupervised as they often did. What her parents had been busy with all the time in their barely workable lands, she’ll never know. Now, it occurred to her that maybe they just didn’t like children. 

Her brother was only a year younger than her, but she’d wielded the seniority like a heavy torch. They wandered where she wanted to wander and played whatever game she wanted to play, but that day they were simply exploring the underbrush without direction. 

_ “One day, I’ll be far, far away from here. I’ll get on my pegasus and fly away and never come back. I will live in a beautiful house and live happily ever after by myself, spending my days reading and not talking to anyone, and especially not anyone like you.”  _

_ “You’re not allowed to go anywhere without me,” he whined, which only made her mad. Her mother had made her promise not to abandon him in the middle of nowhere after the, uh, last incident. She hadn’t meant to, she just forgot he was following her. Really!  _

_ She punched him on the arm in retaliation before hopping up onto a log. It was nice to be above him again, since he’d hit his growth spurt before she did even though she was older and she deserved to be taller forever. “That won’t count when we’re grown up, dummy. I can do whatever I want when I’m an adult.”  _

_ “No!” He shouted, shoving her off the log but she caught herself from tumbling to the ground. “I won’t let you leave, and it’s not like you have a choice.” Ah, that old chestnut. Volkhard was set to inherit the Arundel lands, and Patricia was fodder for the marriage market.  _

_ Their father was plotting Patricia’s future partnership as the years crept closer to her Academy enrollment. Generally, nobles didn’t marry until after they graduated to test their strength on the battlefield and intelligence in the classroom to make sure the other party wasn’t useless in every way. She knew if she was going to choose a future for herself, she needed to act before the graduation date.  _

_ Letting loose a frustrated shriek, she pushed her brother into the dirt, dust flying up into his face and bringing tears to his eyes. Patricia yelled back at him, filled with conviction she would rarely know the likes of in the decades to come, “Like that would stop me. I’ll marry the Emperor and I’m going to be the most powerful woman in Adrestia!”  _

Ambitious, even at thirteen. It didn’t seem like the sort of story Heidi or Edelgard would enjoy, however. With only ten strokes to go, she continued to brush her daughter’s hair, and said with a little hum , “I didn’t like dolls very much either.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when this was supposed to be an 8k oneshot exploring possible patricia origins? me neither, but rest assured no matter how much of a monster it has become, i am going to finish it. i have come too far to stop now. 
> 
> forever thankful to the people who have encouraged me to keep going and everyone who stood by me when the DLC came out and i very nearly lost my mind and deleted this work.


	3. crown of hideous shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the last chapter for patricia von arundel
> 
> CWs for this chapter because there's a lot of emotionally heavy content:  
> death of multiple loved ones/children (off-page), discussions of grief, grief related depression & hallucinations, blurred lines of reality/nonreality, canon typical violence

1174.

Months went by, and Dimitri took to Edelgard like a fish to water. They spent more time together with each passing day as her stepson’s other friends fell to the wayside, including Rodrigue’s youngest. The two children could never marry since they would be sovereigns of their respective nations, plus their step sibling status would make the match unconventional, but creating such amicable ties was fantastic for political relations. Maybe when Dimitri was king, he would let his beloved stepmother go home if things between Adrestia and Faerghus were friendly enough. 

Otherwise, little changed. She remained a secret to the broader court, was disallowed from leaving the grounds, and shadowed most days by Rodrigue or Cornelia. They began to send Rodrigue’s older son, Glenn, as a replacement chaperone when their duties ramped up. At least helping promote Cornelia to Premier Mage relieved Patricia of her presence. 

In her spare moments, Patricia wondered what the hell had taken over her brother’s mind. His new demeanor ranged from bored to hostile. There’d been disjointed conversation, avoidance, and forgetting stories they’d swapped time and time again. Almost like he was an entirely different person. Hopefully this mood of his would pass soon. 

Patricia bordered on happy at times; but a fool to think the peace was forever. 

The dead of winter had set in and the castle’s halls mostly rang empty. Lambert was gone to the south, checking on the famine conditions in Galatea. Rodrigue had taken Dimitri and Edelgard on a trip up the coast to see the great ice sculptures competing in Gautier’s annual solstice festival. Patricia was left with no one but Heidi and a snake for company. 

Herbal tea, a calming mix, steeped in an antique porcelain cup in front of her. On a chaise to her left, Cornelia prattled on, and if she listened to her about road construction for one more fucking second, Patricia was going to break something. Or someone. 

"You were responsible for curing the plague that killed Queen Georgiana, weren’t you?" Patricia interrupted, boredom dripping from her voice. 

She didn’t miss a beat. "Yes, but a shame I didn't find the treatment in time to save her or help Lambert and Dimitri when they fell ill. But they recovered on their own, and I prevented many deaths afterward." Nothing that Patricia didn’t already know, but suspicion had built in mind. Rodrigue had detailed the infection to her last week, its odd range, subsequent containment which included sudden disappearances in areas where Cornelia didn’t quite reach. _It was like magic_ , he joked. 

"I was never proficient in magic, but it fascinates me. How it can heal such hurts, how it can inflict and then undo such terrible damage." She swirled the tea in her cup, staring out the window into the snow covered distance. "How useful it must be, to wave a hand and make deeds disappear. " At last, Cornelia paused. Patricia didn’t look, but she could hear the spite in her voice and flash of anger in her eyes. The mage knew exactly what she was getting at: Patricia believed that Cornelia caused the plague, then ceased the sickness as soon as it suited her.

"In Faerghus, accusations aren’t play. A small misunderstanding has led to more than one duel to the death. But I was a kind person for a long time, and I could attribute your judgement as a matter of a sad woman's confusion." Cornelia’s gaze pierced through the veil of their conversation and Patricia had to suppress a smile. _You no longer need kindness. Neither do I._

People in this country fought each other and died over petty disagreements. Alliance nobles suffocated themselves running their mouths in arguments over a roundtable till their faces turned blue. In the Empire, poison would do for an enemy. But it was much more satisfying to turn friends against them, ruin their fortune, and make them beg for the drink before pouring it down their throat. Faerghus lacked imagination.

"Wouldn't that be something to see. I'd kill for some entertainment around here, but I don't know what you're referring to. We're simply discussing the benefits and properties of magic." Adrestian court politics, even when she had been on the losing side, at least deigned to impress her. Adrestians didn’t pretend to be any less vicious than they are, though Adrestia was where Cornelia had been raised. Patricia had never asked why she left the Empire, but perhaps she thought that Faerghus had better opportunities for weaseling into the upper echelons of society. Considering her current status, it would appear she’d been right. 

“By the way, the postmaster told me your children haven’t written lately. Concerning, but it’s not like they spent much time talking with you before your,” Cornelia took a dramatic moment to find the right word, “relocation.” 

“I’m sure they’ve written but you’re keeping the letters.” She’d noticed the lack of letters, but her pride forbade her from asking her captor about it. They were surely coming. 

Cornelia shook her head. “Go ahead and ask the postmaster if you don’t believe me. I am surprised that you talk to them so regularly. You always left the letter writing to the Empress.” 

“How did you know that?” Patricia asked, surprised. Her and Nina’s friendship wasn’t a secret, but the finer details of their relationship were sacred. 

The mage shrugged, “You’re bored. Figure it out.”

"Get out." Cornelia didn’t have to listen to her orders and they knew it. Regardless, she swept out of the room anyway with a smile, utterly too pleased. Patricia’s head ached and she tried to dismiss Cornelia’s words, whatever they meant. Something about it bit into her skin but she couldn’t see where the teeth came from. 

She rose from her chair and rested her fingers over the tea set. The pieces were finely crafted with shining gilding on each rim. A variety of wildflowers were delicately painted over the porcelain and faded into a sunburst at the bottom of every cup. The cheery art looked offensive in winter, the bright designs a mockery within a city where snow reigned supreme. Flowers came to Fhirdiad to die. 

Patricia grasped the teapot and attempted to admire its beauty. What a wretched thing. She gripped it until her knuckles went white before hurling it into the wall behind the fire. She did not stop until she’d shattered the entire set. 

#

Nobody told Lambert about the broken set, though frankly she wasn’t sure that anyone had noticed it. Her mind had drifted as it darkened and crackled in the flames until she remembered her exhausted body and went to bed. Days passed, and eventually she came back to life when Edelgard returned. They kept on with their routine of play, lessons, and it didn’t occur to Patricia to question how long this would last. 

But one day, Edelgard was not in her room, nor the kitchen nor the study nor the courtyard. _That’s okay. No reason to panic_. Maybe Rodrigue took her on another surprise trip or she’s out riding with Dimitri. There were a hundred other places she could be that Patricia hadn’t searched yet. 

She found Lambert in the front hall with Rodrigue and Glenn. “Darling, have you seen Edelgard?” 

“Volkhard announced that he had urgent business as the new Regent of the Empire and needed to leave with Edelgard immediately. He told me you’d already bid your farewells?” The Duke explained in that patient tone he always used with her. 

“We hadn’t.” She replied. This didn’t make sense, it must be a dream. Why would Volkhard have done this? Had he gone mad and she just didn’t notice? Or was that what had happened to his mind, the root cause of his new quirks. But how that connected to kidnapping her daughter, she couldn’t guess. 

“Maybe I could catch up to them? Convince them to turn back, if only to say goodbye,” Glenn offered. Rodrigue smiled at his son’s good intentions, and Patricia couldn’t stand to look at them. Parent and child together. Happy. 

She shook her head as her hands clutching her skirts so they did not tremble. “What a sweet boy you are, but I am sure they’re too far gone.” 

“Tricia, I’m so sorry, I wouldn’t have let them leave if I’d known,” Lambert assured her with a pat on her shoulder. Patricia tried to smile but knew it came out more like a grimace. 

“Please excuse me.” She mumbled, and walked stiffly all the way to their bedroom. None of them followed her, undoubtedly discussing a matter of state that she had no interest in knowing. 

Heidi was in her room changing the sheets on their bed. Patricia was oddly glad for the company and sat over by her vanity, pretending to freshen her makeup. “My brother has taken Edelgard away without warning. He was not himself these past weeks, but better have a damned good explanation when I write to him.” She tamped down the jitteriness in her voice, but couldn’t keep her hands from shaking as she sat at her vanity. 

“Have you gotten any letters from the children?” It had been weeks since she’d gotten a response and Alexei never went that long without writing. If there was an emergency, that might explain Volkhard’s sudden departure.  
  
“No, my lady,” Heidi responded flatly. She nearly asked if Heidi had gotten a letter from her family, in case there was an issue with mail delivery in general. Heidi was her only friend, the only person in Faerghus who really understood Patricia. A friend and servant with a lot of information. 

Although Anastasia had been the girl on Ionius’s arm for events, the ones he managed to attend, Patricia’s presence in the palace remained prominent. Plenty of strangers talked to her all the time who could have written to Cornelia and told her about Patricia’s life. 

And yet. The comment about Patricia’s preference for tall blondes the night that Lambert proposed. The strange jab came from somewhere. Her memories of the journey were hazy, but those initial few minutes remained in her head. Discussing her mother, Cornelia offering them chocolate. 

_Take one of these, you’ll feel better. You too, Heidi_ , Cornelia had said in their first carriage ride. No one had told her Heidi’s name. There was the possibility Volkhard had mentioned it in his letters, but he would have referred to her as Mrs. Lucas since he only used her formal name. 

Another conversation, longer ago; _Being a palace maid must not pay what it used to._ What a load of shit. Patricia had never known how much a palace maid earned, but recalled Heidi’s daughter and her husband, who was unable to work. After their entrapment in Faerghus, Patricia offered her extra money to send them, but Heidi insisted that it was unnecessary. 

Patricia remembered the rising prices of food outside the city and reports of hunger when they’d left Enbarr. It would have cost more than ever before to keep a family from starving. Heidi would have needed extra funds from somewhere or someone else. With access to Patricia’s quarters, there had been many jewels and valuables at her disposal, but she would have noticed a missing trinket. 

Why risk getting caught as a thief when knowledge could be traded so easily in secret? The realization hit her like a blow directly to the chest. Saints, whenever Patricia thought she couldn’t be brought any lower, the world still found a way to drag her down just a little further. 

"How long have you spied on me for Cornelia?" Patricia was too late to mend the things she’d broken and had been for a very, very long time. Heidi didn't waver in her folding, and continued until she finished with the pile.

"Not as long as you’ve deserved it." Hatred had a distinctive glow in someone’s eyes, and she saw it in Heidi when she glanced up from her work. They stared at one another with years stretching between them. Missed chances at friendship, mistreatment, abandonment, and a list of her other crimes almost outweighed the betrayal. 

"I dismiss you from my service. If you're within the limits of Fhirdiad by sunset tomorrow, I'll have you jailed and executed for theft." Were it not for the decades of service and Patricia’s guilt, she would have had her arrested immediately. But if one of them could get back to their family, Patricia wouldn’t stop it. 

"It's been a pleasure." With a bow, she was gone. 

1775.

She’d discovered after Edelgard’s departure that her hairbrush—Nina’s hairbrush—was missing. The deck of cards was safe in her bedside drawer, but she’d cried for more hours than she’d like to admit. She knew it hadn’t been Heidi, but Edelgard, who’d taken it. Lambert offered to replace Heidi with another servant, which she accepted. Then she proceeded to hire a new person every three weeks. Best not to take risks. 

Bouts of anxiety ate through her stomach the following month. The few members of Lambert’s circle permitted to see her noticed the change in demeanor and gave gentle consoling remarks since they attributed the change to the loss of Edelgard’s company. How she wished that was the singular cause of her worries. Her brother didn’t answer her letters about the children, why he stole Edelgard away without warning, or his weird mood prior to leaving. 

A reply came the following month but did not acknowledge any of her inquiries. Instead, the horror began in earnest: 

_Lady Patricia Blaiddyd,_

_Your many letters have fallen to the wayside on my desk, and I apologize for taking this long to reply. I’m aware you’ve received no news from your children, and I have to tell you that they have been quarantined under the palace and stricken with a strange condition. Myself and many mages are working round the clock with experimental methods to strengthen their constitution._

_However, these methods have sometimes proved futile on the weaker members of the group. It falls to me to report the deaths of the late Empress’s son, Ionius X, and the Emperor’s youngest daughter, Maria to this illness. This tragedy multiplied when Anastasia von Gerth, lost in grief, began to accuse our treatments as the cause of death. An unfortunate accident on the part of two guards led to her removal and I let you know of her death as well in the ensuing struggle._

_These medicines are aggressive and new, but I believe the children will emerge stronger should they survive this affliction. These mages dealt with a similar disease in the Ordelia children, and I’m sure you know that one of their daughters survived. Fear not, dear sister, because I remain in charge of their welfare. I keep intent and interests close at hand as always. Expect a more regular correspondence in the future._

_Warmly yours,_

_Volkhard von Arundel_

Her children were dying. Ionius’s oldest and youngest did not belong to her, but she had a sense this would not be the last letter of its type. Which one of her own would pass first? How many would survive? How much loss would she endure before her mind snapped from grief? Was this why Volkhard had stolen Edelgard away? She hadn’t shown any signs of sickness. The explanation reeked of lies. 

The smart thing for a new regime to do would be to remove the last link to the previous dynasty. Without her children, she had no more future and a past made worthless.Patricia had removed Edelgard from Adrestia to ensure something like this didn’t happen. And she’d never gotten to say goodbye. 

Her reflection showed empty eyes, betraying a void that would grow and consume and remain unmollified. Patricia ran her fingers over the sallow cheeks of a dead woman walking. But there was no denying she was still beautiful, reminiscent of the woman Lambert loved and married. Her curse. What an empress she could have been. What a queen she could still make, if only time and fate were not so cruel. She stared into the mirror and wished it would break. 

#

The letters kept coming and their content changed little except for the names. 

_Dear Lady Patricia Blaiddyd,_

_… Wilhemina’s passing is discouraging since we hoped that the eldest children would be strongest. However, this means we can dedicate more resources than before to those who still live. Your son, Filipe, has died as well. He was weak from the very beginning and had the most extreme manifestation of symptoms in a fascinating way. Frankly, I was surprised I didn’t need to report his loss in my last letter as he held on longer than expected. Grigory is on the decline, but the teenagers seem most stable..._

Tears fell onto the paper before Patricia registered that she was crying, and she shoved it away to prevent blurring the ink. Wilhelmina was gone; the last living link to Nina left in the world. Why hadn’t Patricia realized that earlier? Nina would be devastated to lose her last child. Patricia had a feeling that she would soon know what that felt like. Hope was a traitor, and she would be a fool to search for it. 

How did Grigory react to Filipe’s death? Despite Filipe’s play at resentment, they’d been inseparable. Her brother didn’t describe what _the most extreme manifestation of symptoms_ meant, but it sounded painful. Grief trickled in like the first raindrops of a hurricane. 

Her brother would not have written in this clinical language no matter how malicious his feelings. Patricia had assumed that Volkhard betrayed her when they came to Faerghus, but their discussion after his arrival erased her suspicions. Perhaps she’d been wrong, but his actions had followed the logic. Until suddenly they didn’t. Why go to the lengths of convincing her that he’d been helping the whole time only to betray her now? There was the strange turn of behavior in his last weeks at the castle. She’d wondered if he’d been ill, but it wouldn’t have been anything like this disease he described. 

This mystery illness could be the same strategy Cornelia used to murder the royal family, except this time it was working. And in the last letter, he’d mentioned that Anastasia was killed in a struggle because she said the treatments were the reason that the children were dying. They wouldn’t do that unless they were afraid people would believe her or she had evidence. For the first time, Patricia marveled at her. Anastasia had acted with enough bravery to get herself killed. 

Patricia floated somewhere above her head. White noise tingling across her skin replaced any true feeling. An emptiness spread through her like its own kind of sickness. She willed her hands to hide the letter before her husband returned, and she watched herself place it in the same drawer in which she kept the forged letter of exile. The sight of it didn’t fill her with anger as it usually did. The numbness didn’t budge, and the stillness in her mind should’ve felt wrong. 

Lambert’s footsteps sounded in the hallway, so she wasn’t surprised when he came in and—

—immediately shut the door behind him.

“Apologies for the lateness.” He said with a grin. Lambert, Duke Fraldarius, and the Margrave had gathered in the war room to discuss… she’d forgotten what. Lambert had asked her to come and listen. This was his idea of ‘spending more time together’ in an effort to make her less ‘inclined to sadness’ which he believed came from the time she spent alone. Maybe she wouldn’t spend so much time alone if the court wasn’t banned from knowing about their marriage three years after the fact. 

“Not a problem, Your Majesty.” Rodrigue’s smile was strained, but Lambert’s focus was on the maps in front of him. “First things first, Viscount Kleiman is advocating to absorb Duscur as part of Faerghus. Again.” His son had been officially knighted the week prior, and the pride made his posture more perfect which she hadn’t imagined possible. Glenn accompanied her and the boys more often these days. She got the impression that he was around to watch her as much as he was there to babysit Dimitri and Felix. 

“And again we will let him know that his comment has been heard and denied. We’ve maintained good relations with Duscur as a neighboring state, and after our campaigns into Sreng, I’ve learned many lessons about the costs and benefits of such an expedition.” He replied with a careful look towards Margrave Gautier who did not blink. “Without extreme cause, Duscur will be left alone.” 

Margrave Adrien pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Excellently put, your Majesty. But do you perhaps think we’re not being—

— _aggressive enough. Edelgard and Jakob seem to be on the mend and I have high hopes that they will live beyond this endeavor. But I regret to say that this illness and our treatments have not been without more loss. Natalia passed quietly three days ago, and she had grown quite listless in the days before. The warning signs of death have not been entirely consistent across cases._

 _Right before Grigory’s death, he began to attack his caretakers in a fevered confusion. Vasilisa and Irina have begun to exhibit violent outbursts as well, much to our concern. However, we should have expected nothing less from_ —

—Vasilisa’s vicious temper. 

“Blue is my color!” She insisted as she swatted away Natalia’s grasping hands.The youngest triplet held up a blue dress in front of a full length mirror on the wall of the parlor as Patricia jolted awake. 

Patricia must have dozed off. Edelgard snoozed in her lap, head tucked under her arm, while Grigory and Filipe played with toy soldiers at the foot of her chair. The room was warm, and the crackling of the fire soothed any tension in her body. 

“Irina, who would look better in this? Don’t you think Vasilisa would be washed out in this shade?” Natalia snagged the dress from Vasilisa and pulled it close to her body, swishing the skirt around like she was dancing. Their younger sister sat in the window seat with a novel that she’d dug up. Patricia was convinced Irina had burned through the whole library, and at this point wasn’t sure where the new literature came from. 

“It would be the most egalitarian to give it to Jakob,” Irina replied without looking up from her story, but a half smile twitched on her lips.

“He’d make a lovely picture at the Duke’s birthday party,” Alexei said with a smug grin. Her eldest lounged on a chaise close by alongside Jakob. They were dressed for sparring practice, hair scuffed up but faces washed clean. Patricia scowled as she noticed their muddied boots but couldn’t bother to ruin the fun moment. 

“Please don’t,” Jakob begged and kicked out to strike his brother on the shin. Alexei just laughed at his misfortune, glad not to be the subject of his sisters’ ire. 

“I can’t have Jakob stealing the Bergliez boy out from under my nose.” Vasilisa crossed her arms and frowned at her sister, who looked very good in that color after all. 

“Do you even remember his name?” Natalia’s smile changed from spiteful to genuine as she continued to circle the room in a single woman waltz. The chiffon skirt moved beautifully through the air and she looked every bit the Grand Duchess that she was. 

“Yes! It’s Gerard. Wait, Geralt.” Vasilisa paused. “Definitely Gerald.” 

“It’s Gerome! Please stop this nonsense!” Their poor triplet wouldn’t win this battle and he knew it. Soon they’d get back to the dress, but Jakob did make it so easy to tease him. 

Anastasia, holding Maria, and Wilhemina snickered in the corner before going back to gossiping. In a nearby chair, Nina’s eldest son yawned like he’d rather be anywhere else. Warmth spread through her limbs, perfectly content to have all the children in one room. 

“Either way you decide, take it to Nina to hem the sleeves.” Patricia suggested, petting the top of Edelgard’s head as she watched the girls’ antics with an amused eye. 

The flames in the fireplace blinked out, and a chill instantly seeped through her clothing until she shivered. The childrens’ and Anastasia’s shoulders froze unnaturally. Patricia held her breath, subconsciously willing them to breathe. Twelve pairs of unblinking eyes swiveled to stare at her. Their bodies might as well have turned to stone for the movement they made. 

“Nina is dead, Momma.” Irina’s surreal voice echoed. The room wasn’t large enough for that sort of sound, but it was far away and empty. Patricia must have dozed off again. This was a dream. 

Their skin faded grey and translucent, veins blue and stark under their skin. Pale like corpses. When their mouths opened, their lips moved in perfect tandem. Broken and rotting teeth smiled at her, but their tongues remained whole to speak in ghastly synchron: “Why didn’t you save us?” 

They repeated the question over and over in canon, growing louder as decay gripped their flesh. The voices crescendoed into screams as she watched skin and sinew slough off their skeletons. She looked down to see Edelgard intact, but her youngest daughter opened her eyes and revealed a sea of endless darkness. Patricia screamed—

— _until the very end. Irina’s violent behavior escalated until she attacked one of her caretakers, gouging out a significant portion of his arm with her teeth. We were forced to restrain her, but her excited state never ceased. When we heard her go quiet, we checked the room to find her dead. Jakob, on the other hand, floated somewhere between the quiet state that Natalia exhibited and Irina’s violence. He had been doing well, and his fast decline was incredibly frustrating. The progression of this condition is unpredictable in a way that makes it difficult to discern a treatment method..._

This was a nightmare. Why couldn’t she—

—wake up. Open your eyes, darling.” Nina said, pulling Patricia back to the waking world. She stirred, glancing around to see the two of them were laying on the bed. Through the windows she could see stars blanketed across the night sky, but Enbarr’s lights were missing. It must be very late for the entire city to be asleep.

But oh, she felt _horrible_ as her dreams—surely they were dreams?—flooded back into her head. Patricia had attended Nina’s funeral. She couldn’t remember when she’d arrived and left or who else had attended. She hadn’t heard a word of the sermon, which was for the better since the words would have tasted like dust. What she could see was the dark wood of a casket sitting on the dais with a sealed lid. She wanted to rip up the nails with her fingers to reveal the body inside, because it couldn’t be Nina. And if it was, she wanted to crawl in right next to her. Patricia could never survive such a reality. 

“I had a terrible dream. You were dead, and this _thing_ was murdering our children. I had to marry the King of Faerghus. Can you imagine?” 

“You? Stuck in the misfortune of being a wife? No, certainly not.” Their laughter mixed in a symphony that she wanted to bottle up for the dark days when she couldn’t believe beautiful things existed. But why did she have those days when everything she wanted was with her in the palace?

Patricia didn’t remember coming to the room, but it was such a common trip that the instances blurred together. Softly, she asked, “Why did you let me in?” _Not just tonight, but the first night and every night thereafter?_ She wasn’t sure why she brought it up now, but it seemed important. 

Nina raised a hand to her cheek, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Because you looked at me when no one else did. You could see me, and you let me see you in return. I’ve watched you be ruthless one moment and caring the next when you think nobody will notice. I’ve seen you work with wickedness and ferocity in everything, even love. That fire stokes mine, and you’ve kept me warm in a very cold place.” She paused, her voice growing quieter. “I’ll always let you in.”

“Don’t go to your parent’s estate. Don’t leave me staring at a closed door. Make it so that I can always come back.” Patricia couldn’t talk above a whisper for the tightness in her chest. Her pulse raced with an unfounded fear and certainty that this was their last chance. Last chance… for what? 

“I’ll stay. I’ll stay for you.” Nina placed her hands on either side of Patricia’s face and touched their foreheads together. She squeezed her eyes shut as unchecked tears slid down her cheeks. Her breath sped up until she was sure her heart would burst. Could Nina hear it? 

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes to marvel at her freckles, the specks of gold swimming among the brown in her eyes. Patricia’s throat felt thick, but she had to speak. There wasn’t _time_. They were never meant to have enough time. “I—

—love you.” Lambert said from atop his horse. “You look lovely with your hair down,” he added, tilting his head when she didn’t respond. “Tricia? I’ll be back soon I promise.” 

“I miss you already,” she lied. He leaned down to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek before taking himself and his retinue forward away from the castle. She fought not to flinch at the disgusting gesture of affection. In a better mood, she would have hated him. 

She turned and walked back inside to the sound of his horse’s hooves hitting the gravel. He would be gone for two weeks and she could siphon out a semblance of peace from the solitude. Her solace was that she didn’t have to pretend to be normal. Happy wasn’t an act she could swing these days, but she managed to hide she was often on the verge of tears for no apparent reason. He still loved her, oblivious, but had no idea how to handle her. That was simply—

— _another tragedy. In a wave of disappointment, Alexei and Vasilisa have succumbed to their illness. We had high hopes for them since they had been so resilient up until this point. Vasilisa rapidly became more frenzied, and we theorize that the combination of the emotional strain and bodily was too much for her. Alexei turned desolate, much like Natalia, and did not last long after that. What a shame. However, I also bring you happy news! Edelgard is recovering and well enough to roam about the palace again. I will have a more extensive report on her status in person._

_Warmly yours,_

_Volkhard von_ —

—Arundel, or the thing that looked like him, stood by the fireplace. Thales, he said his name was. King of an ancient race called the Agarthans. _Those Who Slither in the Dark_ , what a pretentious fucking title. He’d refused to answer her questions about the children’s ‘illness’ and deaths. 

Lambert and Rodrigue would join them later after another meeting about relations with Sreng. The border was growing increasingly hostile, which tends to happen after you steal land from a country. Cornelia was largely absent from the castle due to some ‘experiment’ she had outside the city. For now, Patricia sat with him alone. “If you’re not going to tell me anything, why are you here?” 

Rocking back and forth on his heels, Thales took a sip from his glass before glancing back at her. “There are a few nobles looking to rearrange the way things are done in Fhirdiad, you’re in a place to help relieve Lambert of his kingly duties.” _And his life_ went unsaid but they were one and the same. 

She paused and ran through every interaction she’d had with a Faerghus noble, though she’d been scarcely involved in the court here. They were loyal, or put on a good show of being loyal, to their king. Ionius’ backstabbers had been overt and if he’d been any less ignorant, he would have noticed. But as she’d said before, Lambert could act like a buffoon at times but was a rather good ruler. He would notice that type of thing, not to mention his watchdog. “I’ve seen unrest in a nation before. None of the signs are here.” 

“Adrestia was a place of games and subtlety. You’ve been in the Kingdom for a while, and that is not the way things are done here. Interested parties seek to end the Blaiddyd line. Lambert’s death will leave the country vulnerable. Areadbhar will be no more, and a shield is nothing without a weapon.” He spoke like they were simply discussing the weather. But for what purpose did the nobles want rebellion? Adrestia’s weakness had accomplished what as an example? An unhappier people, desperate to return to days of stability and peace, waiting for a new leader. A new type of order… but perhaps she should be less concerned with that than with the plan to kill her remaining family. 

“You killed my children. I have to lose my stepson, a husband who adores me, and my last home in one foul swoop? You’ve taken everything else from me. Did you truly expect me to help you? Why not kill me like I assume you did Volkhard and put me out of my misery?” Patricia barked out a mirthless laugh. She was dried up, smothered by their schemes until even her endless spite had run its course. 

“Volkhard was a longtime ally who became uncooperative after your disappearance. He was supposed to return to Adrestia and when he did not, it made it difficult to gain control of certain circumstances. So, he left me with no choice but to take the reins while he was advantageously at court. I suspected I might find a better friend in his sister, but of course I don’t anticipate earning your allegiance easily. The loss of your children was an unanticipated, regrettable tragedy.” Thales walked over to her chair and looked down with eyes full of pity. She barely resisted the urge to spit. 

“Do this, and I will take you to Edelgard. You will be by her side, and that is the least I can do to ease your grief.” It was the same promise that Cornelia had baited her with, but this temptation was the first hint of sweetness she’d tasted in months. Did she care if she fell for the gambit twice? Was there much lower she could get? 

“At the cost of their lives.” She clarified. It did not go unnoticed that he didn’t answer her questions. Her brother was dead, but he’d worked with these people. They spent decades in the same palace with the same friends in the same circle, but she really hadn’t known him at all. His true nature would forever be another bullet on the list of things she was ignorant of. 

“Don’t try to convince me that you love your husband, but yes.” He told her with a shrug. She loved her daughter; at least, she had loved her daughter. 

Her soul—was it a soul?—had fueled her resolve for decades. She had survived on fumes, but along the way, maybe after his third letter, the fire sputtered out. If Patricia reached between her ribs, she could grasp every ugly, fragmented tendril of its remains. This was what she had left. This was hers only, and no one could take it away. A bomb of resentment, despair, hatred, and ash. Charged. Ready to be set off.

She wasn’t sure such a thing could feel love. Love was a weakness, but nothing less than love could destroy her completely. She had confused the meaning of something that is _weak_ and something that is a _weakness_.There was no alternate force that could raze a person or a country to the ground by its sheer existence. Jealousy, hatred, fear, those were lesser emotions borne from love. Lambert loved her, Ionius had loved her, she loved her children and Empress; it had been a tangential and central force throughout her entire life. And it had nearly killed her time and time again. Love was the most enchanting form of failure. 

Maybe she’d been born broken. Maybe Patricia had always been dead in the ways that mattered. She stared into his unearthly eyes as her voice came out quite sure, “A kingdom for my daughter. Tell me what to do.” 




“A bedtime story, a bedtime story!” Dimitri and Felix clamored, sitting on the bed in their pajamas. Patricia had herded them into Dimitri’s bed too late, but it was hard to resist indulging them. It was the least she could do for a boy marked for death and his friend who would soon learn the meaning of grief. 

“Another tale of Loog and Kyphon?” They loved to hear about their ancestors bravely fighting off monsters or the challenges of making a new country together. A lance and his shield making their way in the world against all odds. The beautiful naivety that Nina favored in her books, though to this day Patricia didn’t understand the fascination with it. 

Dimitri looked up at her with those bright blue eyes of his to ask politely, “Do you have a favorite story?” 

She pictured how it would go: 

_“Alright, alright, get snug as a bug in a rug.” Patricia tucked the comforter in around them, adding a kiss to their foreheads for good measure._

_“Now, this story has romance,” which the boys rolled their eyes at. Making a display of putting her hands on her hips, she huffed, “Tsk, you asked for my favorite, didn’t you?”_

_“Sorry! Please don’t stop!”_

_She took a moment to garner their full attention, and then she began, “There once was a girl who met a man under the moonlight and fell in love as they danced until dawn. She moved to his home, and they spent years and years together in a beautiful palace surrounded by friends and revelries beyond her wildest dreams. After a while, she began to have children and became the best of friends with an Empress. Everything was perfect.”_

_“But then the girl’s best friend died, and unrest grew across the land. Nobles were angry, and they conspired against the man to unseat him from the throne. The man was caught up in those same friends and revelries, but the girl began to see them for what they were: distractions. Illusions for making merriment rather than creating real happiness. She tried to tell the man, but he did not listen. He didn’t listen, and then the nobles overthrew him, and many, many people suffered.”_

_“The girl was exiled to a strange land and cut off from every person she knew, stolen away by a terrible witch. This new place was cold and dark and not at all like the palace they had lived in. The witch threatened to kill her favorite daughter unless she seduced the King. So the girl agreed.”_

_“The king fell in love with the girl, and they were married. In exchange for more power, the witch brought the daughter back to her. The girl thought that things would surely get better from there. But the world, like the new land, is harsh and cruel. The girl lost her only friend and her brother, and a monster fouler than her darkest nightmares took his place._

_“He took away the daughter and locked her away. He killed the girl’s other children slowly, and wrote her letters detailing their demise. The other boys and girls were lost to madness and pain. They must have been so alone without their mother.”_

_“Is it over?” The youngest Fraldarius whispered, and Patricia broke out of her trance to see their eyes shining and noses running._

_“No, darling. It gets much worse.” She realized tears were running down her cheeks too, falling onto the white knuckles clutching their sheets. “The monster appeared and told the girl that he would take her back to her daughter if she would do one last terrible thing. She would have to kill her husband and bring the kingdom to ruin. The girl, desperate to see her last living child, agreed to this.”_

_“I don’t like this story very much.” Dimitri sniffled. She grinned, wild and wide until her face split in half to reveal the gristle underneath._

_“Me neither. But the story must end.”_

However, she could not say any of that. Instead she smiled, more a twitch of her face, and bid them, “Go to sleep, Dimitri, Felix. You two will make your own story, and that will be my favorite.” 

#

_Sacred Gwenhwyvar Pass, Duscur_

They crossed into Duscur hours ago, the landscape of plains and fields turning to tall pines that thrived in higher elevations. Perfect for an ambush. 

Lambert, Dimitri and Glenn rode in a carriage a few hundred feet ahead of her. Glenn was there for protection, and Dimitri had wanted to be with Glenn. “Will you be lonely?” asked Dimitri before they left, face open and concerned. 

“Not at all,” she assured him with a smile before climbing into her carriage. Patricia had never been good at goodbyes, and that was hardly going to change now. 

The horses stopped. “Just a tree in the road. We’ll be moving in just a moment, my lady.” The driver, Killian, called back to her. 

Killian had a wife and three daughters who lived in the castle town within the gates. He gave his horses treats of oats, molasses, and shredded carrot to encourage affection. He became a carriage driver due to his bad knee from an injury sustained in his service to the royal guard. He had complimented her black gloves when she stepped into the carriage. 

She’d agreed to this massacre. But she envisioned the carriage door opening, Thales waiting for her wearing Volkhard’s face and slitting his throat with the letter opener sheathed in her pocket. Honestly, she expected to die with the rest of her entourage. The only way she could be useful to the Agarthans was as leverage to make Edelgard cooperate, and she would rather die than be used against her daughter. 

Although, Patricia could come out as the Queen of Faerghus, be Regent until someone more suitable was found. She would make sure no one suitable could be found. Then she’d rearrange the court, replace a few nobles, and demand the return of her daughter. Maybe she’d wage war. She’d gotten fairly good at outliving people, a blessing and curse. 

In her pocket, the Queen of Diamonds and Queen of Hearts felt smooth against her fingers. She’d destroyed the rest of the deck in the hearth of her bedroom. Closing her eyes, she waited. It had been a long time, not since the Academy, that she’d been to battle. She hadn’t enjoyed the chaos of fighting, but having an enemy in her direct line of sight was a luxury. Seeing the weapon swinging at her head was a blessing. 

The shrieking started. Battle cries from the Kingdom men dressed as Duscur soldiers, screeches from horses, shouts of alarm from those in her party. A child’s scream. What a pity, he might have been a good king. _No_ , her thoughts argued, _there are no good kings_. 

Her carriage door opened and Thales, disguised as Volkhard, stood with a relaxed expression on his face despite the world ending around them. The driver and footman were slain on the grass behind a small cluster of guards in strange clothing with grey complexions.

“Are you well, Lady Patricia?” He prompted, reaching up to help her down the steps. 

Patricia’s bones ached with the exhaustion of the waltz she began in the Goddess Tower. She’d never stopped maneuvering around Ionius’ council, her brother, the king and court of Faerghus. She’d tried to gain the upper hand for years, but always followed and never led. This was her chance to stop moving, to set down the last hand and be the burning jester in the center of the cards; a win in its own way. 

“It must be the smoke,” Patricia told him with a surprisingly level tone. Shouldn’t she be crying? 

She could stay in the carriage and leave Edelgard to fend for herself. He undoubtedly intended to use Patricia in some new way if he didn’t outright kill her. They could escape their cage, make their enemies pay for every degree of pain they’d endured, and if she could not help her daughter, then she truly had nothing to lose. This _was_ about Edelgard, wasn’t it? 

His grin showed a few more teeth, hand outstretched. “Ah, we best get you away for some fresh air.” 

Patricia had spent a long time suppressing her nature so she could plan and act to get where she wanted. Hiding the anger, frustration, and disdain behind smiles to recruit allies who never helped her in the end. Her compassion was scorned, love destroyed, and depression unnoticed. She had landed on a battlefield of someone else’s war, the ash of collateral damage floating through the air and into her lungs. She would choke on her own mistakes

A ghostly voice brushed against her ear with a caress of memory, _You must live to fight another day or I shall never forgive you._ Her Empress was right; there would be no giving up today. She pictured Thales lying on the ground with his face twisted in pain, swords and lances and arrows sticking out of his body until he was more metal than flesh. Patricia would learn healing magic just to keep him alive while he suffered for hours that turned into days. Months, if she could manage it. Lambert’s execution proved something— all kings die. 

That dark thing inside of her chest slept among the ashes of a dead heart. She had kept her grip on its cutting edges that dripped with grief and emptiness. But what if she let it go? What would happen if she released the charcoal and dust of what she’d become? Could she be reforged? 

Patricia held her breath and ripped her fingers off the corpses one at a time. She recited the names of her children, pictured the faces of her loved ones, remembered the details of futures and pasts she deserved but did not get. To live, this part of her needed to die. She returned to herself piece by piece, rebuilding parts that she hadn’t realized were missing. When her hands were free, she opened her eyes, and inhaled. 

Her lungs caught on a sensation like pieces of flint striking one other. A spark hit embers, ignited, and the dredges of her soul flared with new breath. Alive. Aflame. And the fire  _ craved _ . It burned until it decimated all the pain, the loss, and the longing until there was nothing; but a different kind of nothing than she’d become accustomed to in recent years. She wanted to fill that void and knew exactly how to do it. Patricia stared at Thales and his entourage of Agarthans, smiling. They weren’t the only monsters who could slither in the dark, and they wouldn’t notice until it was too late. 

Lady Patricia took his hand and climbed out of the carriage. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s done. i’m free. i started writing this on december 13th, 2019 and now it’s nine months later like this fic is my actual baby. patricia has owned a part of my brain. the dlc influenced me to make some heavy changes in these last two sections but I tried to find a medium that kept the tone of the story I had set up and things about Patricia that were revealed in Dimitri and Hapi’s supports. it was fun and painful and i had many other extreme feelings while crafting this parallel-ish universe. thanks for coming along for the ride. 
> 
> p.s. please see this beautiful theme that @redamantian composed for patty! https://www.dropbox.com/s/618fwrf48hz8nt6/wdncbd.mp3?dl=0


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